Burned (37 page)

“I would have found that,” Jada says instantly.

He pulls out a sheet of paper and glances at it. “Said contract. Signed in blood. By Dani. In your hand. Binding both of you. You think this keeps you from killing me. You want to kill me, pick up the blade on my desk.”

“You would only come back. When I kill you I will do so for good.”

“Get a little practice. See what it feels like to drive a knife through my heart. Relish it. Watch the light fade from my eyes, stare into my dying, taste it, see how you like it. There’s a moment in death that is unlike anything else in all existence.”

“You think I don’t know that. I began killing far younger than you.”

“Not even close. I’m here now. So are you. Do it.” He rips the contract in half, drops the pieces to the floor. “Contract void. Kill me. Dani.”

Jada says nothing. Her gaze drifts down to the knife on his desk, then back to Ryodan, but not starting at his face. It makes it there only after a false start from his feet.

“Pick up the fucking knife,” Ryodan orders.

“You don’t order me around. I’m not she who once obeyed.”

He steps forward, closing the space between them. I wonder how many of the Nine I’m going to watch die today.

Ryodan takes the knife from the desk, grabs her by the wrist and slaps the hilt into the palm of her hand. “I said kill me,” he says softly.

And all I can think is, God this is a terrible bluff. He’s trying to force Dani to stir behind Jada’s implacable countenance, force her alter ego to do something he believes Dani won’t let her do because she lit up whenever he was around.

She closes long, elegant fingers around the hilt. “Fine,” she says coolly.

She draws back her hand and, aiming at his heart, stabs him.

At the last moment, however, her wrist stutters, jerks, and twists around. The blade skids sideways, flat to his chest.

She goes motionless, fist resting on his bare skin and they stare at each other. Emerald ice meets silver steel.

I angle myself sideways, spellbound, trying to get a read on what’s going on by their expressions but, Christ, it’s like trying to read two standing stones. I’m startled to realize Dani didn’t merely grow up—she grew tall. The top of her head comes to Ryodan’s jaw, and since I know he’s six-foot-four, she’s got to be all of five-foot-ten, plus two inches of thick combat boot soles.

They both begin to shift subtly as if they’re fighting a silent war of the wills with their bodies. Ryodan’s stance becomes even more aggressive, intimidating, coercing. But unlike Dani, who would have backed away, Jada molds herself farther into his space, demanding her share of it.

For nearly a minute they stand there like that, staring at each other, trying to force the other to yield in some small way.

It’s Ryodan who breaks the volatile silence. “I’ll give you a choice. Kill me.”

“By definition ‘choice’ mandates a minimum of two possible avenues of action.”

“I wasn’t done. Or kiss me. But do one or the other. Before I do one or the other to you.”

Jada stares at him a long moment, then slowly, deliberately, presses the full length of her body up against his naked one, black leather to nude man, soft, feminine curves to heavily muscled, scarred chest.

Ryodan doesn’t move a muscle, just stands there.

She wets her lips and angles her head so that her mouth is a breath away from his, and I’m a mess of quivering frigging nerves in the corner because she just stays like that and her eyes fix on his mouth, and his fixes on hers and I think, Shit, this room is going to blow, then I think, Shit, this is Dani and Ryodan. But it’s not.

It’s two cataclysmic forces of nature that are brilliant and stubborn and strong, who cut their teeth on razor blades and live on a razor edge of violence at all times. I’ve learned a few things about the world, about myself, during my sojourn in Dublin. In the great pasture of life there are really only four kinds of creatures: sheep, as Dani likes to call them; shepherds who try to guide the sheep and keep them on the straight and narrow; sheepdogs who run them from field to field, prevent them from straying, and fight off the predators that come to slaughter and feast; and wolves, savage, fierce, and a law unto their own.

I know what I am. I’m a sheepdog. If my food supply ran out and I was stranded on a mountain with the flock, I would starve before I ate one of the sheep. Nature or nurture, I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. I protect the flock. To my dying breath.

Ryodan’s a wolf. He’d eat the whole damn flock if his survival depended on it.

Dani is a sheepdog, too.

Jada is a wolf.

Two wolves stand in this room, with a complicated past and an uncertain future, their lips a breath apart, and I’m not sure if they’ll kiss or kill each other. Probably both.

Then Jada reaches up and cups the back of his head with one hand, pulls his head forward and down.

And presses her mouth to his.

Ryodan holds perfectly still, still as stone.

So do I. Holy freaking cow.

She kisses him, lips parted, slow and sexy, lightly touching his lips with her tongue, offering wonders that would rock his world, while delivering nothing. Open mouthed, seductive, warm, inviting and … dangerous. Even I can feel the explosive sexual energy held in check behind her bare feather of a touch. She’s making sure he feels it, slapping him in the face with all she could offer—but isn’t. I’ve kissed men like that before.

It’s a challenge. It says “You think you have what it takes to handle me? Oh, honey, prove it.”

Still, he doesn’t move. Just stands there, letting her kiss him, making no response.

Against his lips she murmurs, “You’ll never kill me.”

Then Jada puts her arms around his neck and pulls him against her, melting against him until there is no space between their bodies. She turns her face slowly to the side and rests her cheek against his, her chin on his shoulder. Laces her fingers into his short thick hair.

His hands move to her waist, stop. Drop to his sides. They stand there like that, sort of hugging but not. Pressed together, staring past each other.

Intimate yet a million miles apart.

It’s one of the most subtly erotic moments I’ve seen.

She closes her eyes and for a fleeting instant every bit of tension in the fine muscles of her face vanishes. If pressed to define the moment, I’d call it basking, a cat soaking up sun on an icy winter’s day. Savoring something she’s wanted for a long time, and I wonder, did she think of him while she battled whatever demons she faced for the past five and a half years, lost in Faery? Did she hear his voice in her head during her darkest hours? Did she find strength in the hard truths he’d battered her with? Does touching him make her feel the way I do when I press my body against Barrons—like coming home?

“I’m all you have left of Dani,” she tells him softly. “Be very careful how you push me, Ryodan. I’m not a little girl. I could turn you inside out. Play you the way you play the rest of the world. You’re not a singularity anymore. I’ve become your equal in every way.”

Then she shoves him back and pushes past him with that long-legged gazelle walk, gracefully swipes the palm pad and glides out the door. He may think Jada doesn’t feel, but there is pure fire in the way she moves. She’s sexy, confident, strong. I’ve walked that way myself. It feels
good
.

I glance between him and the door, dying to stay, knowing I should go. I’ve seen more than my brain can process for one day.

He drops his dark head forward and stands there, unmoving.

As I slip out, just before it slides closed, I hear him murmur, “Ah, Dani, yes you have. As I always knew you would.”

      30      

“When you feel my heat, look into my eyes It’s where my demons hide”

MAC

Jada leaves at normal speed—what Dani used to call walking like a Joe—and I follow her to the top of the stairs, trying to decide who, in my new ghostlike state, I want to haunt next.

I’m eager to see if Ryodan’s wards can detect me should I decide to explore the lower levels of his underground fortress, or if the Book’s cloak will keep me from tripping them. Worst-case scenario, I set one off and run. Then again, knowing Ryodan, enormous steel doors will come slamming down, barricading me in a tiny space of corridor until he releases some high-tech vapor-dye that paints me visible on his monitors, drags me out, and locks me up in his dungeon.

On the subject of the Book, it’s been perversely silent since I arrived back in the city this morning. I’d pause to wonder why but I’m busy enjoying being invisible and not stalked at the moment, plus my head is spinning from all that I’ve learned.
I’m beginning to see that my view of the world was very limited. Life is an iceberg and I’ve only been seeing the tip.

Jo had sex with Lor! Ryodan saw it happening, and it turns out he’s actually got a code of ethics that accommodates humans. Lor might have a bit of a thing for Jo. That would be nice for her. I frown. Maybe. Then again she seemed pretty furious about the whole situation, and Ryodan fired her, so now, insult to injury, she’s out of a job. Barrons and Ryodan are brothers! Ryodan’s been keeping tabs on Dani for years. Papa Roach isn’t Fae, serves as the urbane owner of Chester’s spy network and has been doing so for thousands of years. All roaches are now suspect! Dani’s always had a second persona and I never figured it out. Ryodan killed Lor. Jada kissed Ryodan! Criminy. Never saw that coming. Dani and Ryodan? Weird. Jada and Ryodan? Not weird at all. Sexy as hell. I’d been tense, heart hammering, waiting for that damn kiss. I’d
wanted
it to happen.

It’s like my own private soap opera. Plus I’ve seen two of the Nine naked today. Nice bit of eye candy for a woman with a ferocious sweet tooth and no way to satisfy it.

Fade stops Jada at the top of the stairs, or rather Fade moves in front of Jada and she consents to briefly pause. I have no doubt she could blast past him and quite possibly outrun him.

“The boss wants me to ask if you remember the first iced scene he took Dani to see beneath the club.”

Jada inclines her head.

“Boss said he thinks you should see it.”

“I have no interest in his club. Less in his thoughts.”

“He said to tell you if what’s down there continues to grow, it’ll destroy the world, and the same thing that’s down there got left at every place that was iced,” Fade delivers coolly.
“Said to warn you not to touch it because they behave like black holes with event horizons. Whatever the fuck those are. Black holes I get.”

“An event horizon is also called the point of no return. In a sense of general relativity, it’s the point at which the gravitational pull becomes so great escape is impossible. Some theorize quantum gravity effects become significant in the vicinity of such an occurrence.”

“Whatever. Boss said some college kid thinks your brain is the only one that has a chance of cracking it.”

I glimpse Dani in Jada then, not in a jauntily cocked hip, but a small, telltale straightening of her spine.

“You may tell Ryodan I will inspect it. But I won’t work with his ‘college kid.’ That’s non-negotiable.”

“I’ll tell him. We’ll see what he says. Wait here and I’ll get someone to take you down. I’m on bouncer duty.”

When he turns away, Jada vanishes on a brisk wind.

I could have called that one. And I can predict she sure as hell isn’t going down below. She’ll find another place to examine.

Oh well, it’s obviously not going to be Jada I haunt. She’s gone with the wind. What next? As I descend the chrome stairs I’m startled to see Jo coming out of one of the restrooms dressed for work in the subclub where the waitresses wear short plaid skirts and baby doll heels, and burst out laughing before I can catch myself. The woman just keeps surprising me. Ryodan may have fired her. But Jo didn’t quit. And from the expression on her face, she’s not going to go easily if he tries to enforce it. I don’t blame her. He doesn’t get to fire her just because she slept with someone else. That’s bullshit, and I’d tell him so myself if I wasn’t currently relishing my invisibility.

Fortunately, my disembodied laugh gets swallowed up in the general din of the club.

I melt into the crowd, ducking and dodging as I go. I’m beginning to get the hang of this invisibility stuff.

I sort and discard various destinations. I don’t trust myself to go spy on the Unseelie Princes. I’d be tempted to use my spear, and although I pretty much think any humans stupid enough to go there deserve to die, I have no guarantee my resultant killing spree would be confined to the grounds of the Escheresque gothic mansion.

I could head out to the abbey, slip in and eavesdrop. Go down below and check on Cruce.

I shudder. No thank you.

Search Chester’s?

I’ve had enough of Chester’s for one day. My brain is on overload, and there’s really only one person I want to spy on now. He deserves it. I won’t feel one ounce of guilt for invading his privacy. He invaded the fuck out of mine.

I slip from the club amid a cluster of drunken revelers and navigate the surprisingly busy streets back to the place I call home: Barrons Books & Baubles.

I find Jericho Barrons sitting in his study at the back of the bookstore watching a video on his computer. He exudes tall, dark, and dangerous, even dressed casually in faded jeans, an unbuttoned black shirt, and boots with silver chains. His hair is wet from a recent shower and he smells like clean, damp, deliciously edible man. His chest is nearly covered with tattoos, black and crimson runes and designs that look like ancient tribal emblems, his rock-hard six-pack abs on full display. His sleeves are rolled back over thick, powerful forearms,
and the cuff that matches the one Ryodan wears glints in the low light, reminding me they are brothers, reminding me of Jada/Dani’s cuff. There’s something anciently elegant poured over the beast that is Barrons, Old-World-Mediterranean-basted barbarian. The interior lights are set to a soft amber glow and he sits in the darkness, all hot, sexy coiled muscle and aggression and, oh God, I need to have sex.