Bittersweet Blood (17 page)

“Actually,” Christian said, “it changes nothing. You have always been what you are. The only difference is now you know.” He picked up her case. “We need to leave.”

…

Half an hour into the journey, Christian finally managed to unclench his fingers from their grip on the steering wheel. He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension, opened his mouth, then closed it again as he realized he had no clue what to say. His original anger had faded to something less easy to identify.

He’d thought he knew how she would react to the news that she wasn’t entirely human. He’d thought she would be upset, but he hadn’t thought she would try to pretend the whole thing didn’t exist, including him.

He realized something else—since he’d found out she wasn’t human, he’d started to believe there could be a future for them together.

He could never have a long-term relationship with a human. They became puppets, slaves as he took away their free will. Some, like Graham, accepted this and believed the advantages outweighed what they lost, but he would never want that with Tara. He would have left her before it came to that.

Tonight, she proved that he could not control her mind. If she stayed with him, it would be because she wanted to, not because she couldn’t leave him.

Unfortunately, it looked as though she didn’t want to stay with him. He was a “monster,” and a constant reminder that she was a monster as well. She’d no doubt prefer to pretend he didn’t exist along with the rest of the truths that didn’t fit with her neat little ideas of a normal life.

His hands tightened on the wheel again. He decided he was angry after all. Angry and hurt. And underneath that, he wanted her again, desired her blood and her body. As they got nearer their destination, he realized he didn’t want to let her go, didn’t want to leave her.

But he wasn’t being fair. The revelation must have been an incredible shock and Tara needed time to think it through.

He would give her that time, but she also needed to be aware that this was far from over. He would leave her tonight with the same ache in her body he felt. He would make her remember how good it had been and trust she would come to him of her own free will.

She wasn’t immune to him. She stared out of the window, but he could feel her sidelong glances every few miles.

He’d wait. But if she didn’t come to him, he’d go and get her. He wasn’t letting her go. She’d been warned, and now she was his.

…

They were silent on the way back to London. She was aware of Christian beside her, angry with her, radiating a freezing iciness that sliced at her heart.

She’d hurt him, and hadn’t considered that possible. She hadn’t thought about what would happen between them after they made love. A relationship with a vampire hardly fit into her idea for the future. Had she imagined she could sleep with Christian and just walk away, get on with her life?

She could still feel the slight ache in her body where he had filled her so completely, the slight ache in her throat where he’d drank from her. Without thinking, she touched the scar at her neck. Then jumped as Christian spoke.

“It should heal within twenty-four hours. You won’t even know I was there.”

She glanced across at him, but he’d already turned his attention back to the road. His expression was closed, his hands grasped tight on the wheel. She stared out of the side window. They had left the motorway and were entering the city. She would be home soon. Then what?

She’d told him she needed time alone to think this through. Now, at the thought of him leaving, a flash of pain ripped through her. But he couldn’t stay; in less than an hour the sun would rise, and Christian needed to be back in his basement away from the light of day.

For a moment she had the urge to tell him she’d changed her mind. Beg him to take her with him. She bit down on her lower lip to stop the words coming out. She needed time alone—this close to Christian she couldn’t think.

The car pulled up in front of her apartment building. Christian got out without a word, and fetched her case from the trunk. Tara followed him out. Standing by the car, she breathed in the night air, crisp and dry after the dampness of Yorkshire.

“I’ll see you to the door,” Christian said. “There’s something I need to say before I leave you.”

She nodded and followed as he led the way. Suddenly cold, she huddled into her jacket and dug her hands into her pockets. Christian appeared unaffected by the temperature.

She let them into the building, up the stairs, and they both came to a halt in front of her door. He put down the case and turned to her.

“I’m leaving you here because you’re right. You need to come to terms with what we discovered tonight.”

In the back of her mind she’d harboured the secret hope that he would insist on taking her with him. That he wouldn’t be able to leave her behind. She berated herself for being so stupid.

“And you need to come to terms with what we did together tonight.”

A wave of heat washed over her. She fumbled for the right key. She couldn’t find it and rested her forehead against the cool wood of the door. A hand touched her shoulder, and Christian turned her toward him.

“Don’t think this is the end,” he said. “I’m expecting you to come to the right decision. You need to accept what you are.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he put a finger to her lips. “I want you to be clear why I’m letting you go when everything screams that I should keep you close. You need time alone, and I believe you’ll be safe as long as you wear the talisman. Don’t take it off.”

Tara’s hand went to the chain at her throat. “That’s not all, is it?”

“I don’t want you anywhere near Piers. You’re still unmarked. He’ll see you as a threat.”

She shivered. “And do what?”

“He’ll do nothing. I won’t allow it, but it will be easier if I keep the two of you apart. However, I don’t like you here alone. I’m going to send some of my people over to watch over this place.”

“Vampires?”

“No not vampires. They’ll need to watch in the daytime as well. Demons prefer to hunt at night, but they can move around in the light of day.”

“Anything else?”

“Just one thing.” His voice was no longer expressionless, but dark and low; it caressed her sensitive ears, sending tremors down her spine.

“What?” she whispered.

“Something to help you come to the right decision.” He clasped her hands, slipped them inside his coat, and pressed them against his chest.

Beneath her palms, she felt the hardness of muscle and bone, and she curled her fingers into him.

He whispered in her ear, “Did you like what we did tonight? Did you like having me deep inside you?” One hand released hers and trailed over the small wound at her throat. At the touch of his fingers, that rhythmic tugging tightened the muscles of her belly.

“Here,” he whispered, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the small mark. His hand slipped between them, pushing between her thighs to cup her sex. “And here.”

Unable to prevent the instinctive movement, Tara pressed herself against his palm. She clutched the soft silk of his shirt and whimpered as his clever fingers moved against her, tormented her.

He stepped back. For a moment, she clung to him, and then her hands fell to her sides. He studied her, his gaze heavy with desire. “Let me know when you’d ready to finish this.”

Turning away, he walked back down the stairs and out of the front door. Tara ran to the window and stood, fists clenched, as he got in the car and drove away. She watched until the car disappeared into the night and she knew for certain that he wasn’t coming back.

She shook as she let herself into the apartment. The place was silent. There was no sign of Smokey although she opened all the doors calling to him. In the kitchen she found food set out, but no cat.

Smokey was probably out hunting on the heath, but she wished he was there. She could have done with his comforting warmth. Instead she curled up alone on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest and trying not to think of Christian.

But when she finally slept, his image still filled her mind.

Chapter Sixteen

“Have I mentioned the fact that I hate the fucking fae?” Piers asked as they exited the elevator onto the open rooftop.

Christian ignored the comment. All his senses were alert, but the roof appeared deserted, and nothing moved in the shadows. He glanced at Piers. He’d been preoccupied with his own thoughts, but now, for the first time he noticed that Piers looked pissed.

“I mean,” Piers continued, “with a demon you know where you are, what to expect—”

“Them trying to kill you?”

“Yeah, but at least they’re up front about it and you get a good fight. Hell, demons are fun. The fae on the other hand don’t know what fun is, and they certainly don’t know how to have a good fight. They’re more likely to wait until they can stab you in the back or bore you to death with all that purity of the blood shit. And that magic stuff, what’s with that?” He shook his head in disgust. “Man, I hate the magic.”

Christian had to agree. The fae were tricky. The one point in their favor was that they kept to themselves. That was the thing about thinking you were better than everyone else—you didn’t want to mix. In his years running the Order, he’d never had much contact with them.

“Have you ever met the Walker before?” he asked.

Piers nodded. “Oh yeah, I’ve had the pleasure, more than a few times, and boy was that fun. What about you?

“Once. At the end of the last wars. They’d been trying to recover something the demons had stolen from them. They wanted our help.”

Piers grinned. “I bet it hurt them to ask for that. Did we give it to them?”

“We never found whatever it was.” Christian shrugged. “They weren’t happy, but there wasn’t a lot they could do about it.”

“What did you think of the Walker?”

“Very focused. Ruthless. I was glad when they went back where they belong.”

“So you don’t like them any more than I do. Though I have to admit they are good for one thing.” Piers’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Have you ever tasted fae blood?”

“It’s against the Accords,” Christian said.

“This was before the Accords were signed.”

“You’re that old?”

Piers nodded. “And it was wild times back then. Pretty much a free for all.”

“And the fae blood?”

“The sweetest thing you have ever tasted.” He licked his lips and grinned. “You can understand why a demon will break the Accords to get some of that.”

Christian stepped out of the shadows and searched the open area in front of them. The night was clear, and up here, high above the city streets, it was quiet. Far below, the constant hum of the city continued as normal.

“Perhaps I should tell you,” Piers said, “the Walker and me, we have some history.”

Christian swung around to face him “You do?”

“Hmm.

“Is it going to be a problem?”

“Probably.”

“And you only thought to mention this now?”

“Hey,” Piers said, “the fae approached the Order for this meeting not the other way round. So they can take what they’re given or fuck off back to fairyland where they belong.”

Christian rubbed a hand across his temple. He wanted to get this meeting over with and get back to Tara; he was worried about her. No, it was more than worried. He needed to see her. It was less than twenty-four hours since they’d parted and it was already too long. He shouldn’t have left her at the apartment; he should have kept her close where he could protect her.

He stopped short at the thought. Turned it over in his mind. It felt right, and a wave of excitement rippled through him. He’d never had a woman of his own. Not since his mortal life before he was turned. For a moment, he felt a flicker of doubt. He’d been unable to save Emily or their daughters. Could he do any better now? He had to—Tara was his.

“Christian. We’ve got company.” Piers gestured across the rooftop to where a faint figure was taking form. It glowed with a pale luminescent that faded, leaving the Walker standing before them. He could almost pass for human: a tall human, wand-slim, with silver-gilt hair down to his shoulders and a long slender face with high cheekbones and a sharp blade of a nose. His expression screamed arrogance, which changed to disgust as he took in the two figures. His eyes blazed hatred at Piers.

The air filled with a sweet subtle scent that caressed Christian’s nostrils and made his fangs ache to feed. The fae stopped a few feet from where they stood. Ignoring Piers, he bowed formally to Christian. Christian returned the gesture and heard Piers snort in obvious amusement.

“I am approaching the Order to report a breach of the Accords,” the Walker said.

“Unfortunately, I am no longer with the Order. You need to speak to my colleague here. I believe you already know each other.” He gestured to Piers and a slow hiss came from the fae.

“Hi, Walker,” Piers said, waggling his fingers. “Long time, no see.”

“Blood taker,” The Walker replied. “I would do much not to deal with you.”

Piers shrugged. “Don’t then. Come on,” he said to Christian. “Looks like this meeting is over.”

The Walker turned back to Christian. “Do you know what this man was? A hunter of our people. He stole our blood.”

“And what were you, Walker?” Piers asked. “Back in the good old days?”

“I was a protector of my people.”

“You were an assassin.”

“Assassins are paid. I was never paid for killing your kind. I did it for pleasure.”

“Ditto,” Piers said.

Christian’s muscles tightened as he watched the two circle each other. Piers opened his coat and placed his hand on the pistol at his thigh. The Walker flung back his cloak and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Nice outfit,” Piers said, “It’s good to see you’re making a real effort to blend in here.”

Christian sighed. “Piers, could we get to the point here?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who called this meeting.”

“No, but as head of the Order you have a duty to listen to emissaries from either side. Hear what he has to say.”