Death's Lover (12 page)

“After ten years, I think you can call me Curtis now.”

She paused. Why was he looking at her like that? Studying her? Not like prey. Not the way fangs would a victim but the way someone did when they were really interested in everything you had to say. Like she was really that fascinating. “Curtis, then.”

He nodded, tipped his hat to her, and left.

“Weird. Goddess, my life is so weird,” she muttered with a small shake of her head and walked up the stairs. No sooner was she sticking her key into the lock than she heard the phone ringing.

“I’m coming,” she yelled, like that was going to do any good. “I’m coming, don’t hang up. Don’t hang up.” Maybe it was Cian. Oh goddess, maybe she hadn’t made such a mess of things. Of course she hadn’t given him her number, but she was listed in the white pages. There was hope. Right?

Her stomach twisted in on itself and flopped down to her knees.

She rushed into her living room, throwing the door closed and running to pick up the phone on its fourth ring.

“Hello,” she said in a breathless whisper.

“Ohmygod, she’s just getting home, Cel!” Tamryn squealed into her ear.

She winced and pulled the phone away until the shriek died down. To say that her heart dropped would be an understatement. It flat-lined. Okay, she should have expected this, but jeez, it didn’t make it any less of a letdown.

“Oh, hey, Tam.” She plopped onto the couch, covering her eyes with her hand and sighed. With disgust, she tossed the bag of taffy to the ground.

“Oh, hey. Please, try not to sound so excited.”

“Tamryn, if this is the inquisition, I’m not in the mood.” She kicked off her shoes and grabbed the cashmere blanket draped over her couch.

“You’re just getting home and you expect me not to be curious.”

She closed her eyes. “Sure, you can be curious.”

A nagging, throbbing pain started at her sinuses and traveled up her skull. She frowned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t so much painful as annoying.

She took deep breaths, counting backward from ten until the headache slowly subsided then vanished all together, leaving just as fast as it’d come.

She rubbed her forehead, exhaustion creeping in. Headaches tended to be a thing for her. Especially when she got overly stressed or tired, and right now, she was both.

A sudden rush of sleepiness filled her limbs. She couldn’t keep her eyes open for anything. They felt like weights, repeatedly slamming shut.

Fuzz was growing in her head.

Tongue was feeling heavy. Just the thought of having to form a coherent sentence seemed too much right now.

“Eve.” Her sister stressed her name. “I hear you falling asleep on me.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fine. But you’re telling me later.”

“Yesh,” she slurred and hung up the phone.

C
ian doubled around the sidewalk, running behind the homes. Searching, his heart pounded a furious tempo. Damn it. He’d seen him. There’d been a flash of red and a bright flare of silver, lurking around the bushes of her home. Frenzy.

Cian increased his speed, pumping his arms and legs, almost flying in his haste to get there. He could use the portal, but that might attract attention. As slow as this was, it was his only option. Finally he reached her house and walked around the backyard, searching through bushes. Not even out of breath from his exertions.

“Get your ass out here,” he seethed.

He smelled death. Felt his brother to the depths of his bones. His ears rang in recognition. “Frenzy, you bastard…”

And then there he was, standing before him, as nonchalant as could be. His hair glowed a vibrant red in the first rays of sunlight; mercurial eyes staring back at him.

Something inside Cian snapped to even think of Eve in danger. He took a step forward with fists clenched tight. One wrong word, one wrong move, and he’d defend what was his to his dying breath.

“What the bloody hell are ye doing here?” he hissed, glaring at the man with open hatred.

A heartbeat within the house snagged his attention. It was the slow, gentle hum of one in sleep. A soft shimmer of happiness. A rushing warmth of joy. Eve.

His lashes fluttered. Even in sleep, she gave him peace, kept the madness at bay.

“I’m a casual observer, Cian. As are you.” A corner of Frenzy’s mouth tipped and his gaze rolled over Cian’s face. “Maybe a little
more
than you. Accent’s creeping out, old man. Thought you had more self-control than that.”

Cian ignored the sarcasm. “Why are you here? You swore me a week.”

Frenzy cocked his head. “Swore, yes, which the queen quickly stripped me of. Five days, Cian. That’s all she’s willing to pledge.”

His jaw clenched. Not enough time. He glanced up at the second story, almost as if he could peer through the wood into her room and at her. He sighed and shoved his fingers through his hair. “So in five days you’ll kill her? Is that it?”

Frenzy crossed his arms, his black shirt rustling with the movement. He wore black on black. Black shirt. Black jeans, with bright-red hair, silver eyes. The man was the freaking embodiment of the stereotypical fae. Perilous. Fatal. But with that sharp, lethal grace that had women wetting themselves.

Jealousy flared. It was bright, hard, and heavy, choking the air from his lungs. He’d never been a jealous man, but he didn’t want this bastard around her.

“She’s got five days. Leave her the hell alone.”

The reaper lifted a brow, canines in prominent display. Fangs weren’t the exclusive domain of weres and vamps; faerie had them too.

“Jealous. Ohhh,” Frenzy breathed, “so unlike you.”

He raised a fist, ready to tear into him.

Lifting his hands in a mock show of peace, Frenzy took a step forward. The air grew charged with the promise of danger. Cian shook as adrenaline coursed through him, but he refrained. Barely.

Two behemoths: both were powerful and each of them knew it. But neither of them was willing to back down.

“Don’t worry, Cian.” Frenzy walked around him and said to his back, “She can’t see me.”

Cian twirled, but Frenzy was already gone.

Frenzy walked to the bedroom mirror in Curtis’s home and grabbed the silver amulet off the nightstand. He grinned, slipping the cold metal back on. It settled against him with a soft blue glow.

His plan had worked almost better than he’d hoped. Cian was now on his toes, alert and aware of Frenzy, ready for anything he might pull.

“Dumb bastard. It won’t be Frenzy harming Eve.” He watched as his skin turned mahogany rich, his eyes a dull brown. Curtis stared back at him.

Cian thought he had it figured out. He was on guard for Frenzy’s deception. It made the rest so easy.
Too
easy.

While Cian was watching him, he wouldn’t be watching Curtis. Now it was just a matter of slipping in and making her trust him. He’d tasted her fear this morning, for a brief moment she’d sensed something amiss. Still, all he’d had to do was smile and talk about their past and she’d relaxed.

Too easy.

A meow snagged his attention. Samhain sat on the couch, licking a paw and staring at him. Cian stalked toward the cat. He’d taken the other six to shelters. What the hell was he supposed to do with so many cats? He didn’t have time to sit and feed them—but not this one.

He swallowed and sat, pulling the tabby onto his lap. Dark, dangerous memories flooded him.

Hurt. Pain. Desperation. Blood.

No, he hadn’t been able to give this one away. It reminded him too much of her. Adrianna.

He swatted the memories away, nostrils flaring as the old anger, old pain, seeped into his veins. It felt like a dagger piercing his heart, bleeding him dry. Samhain stared back at him with slanting green eyes, bright with intelligence and curiosity.

He touched the soft velvet of its fur and stopped thinking. Shut off the thoughts, the memories, and relaxed into the soothing melody of the cat’s vibrating purrs of approval, the soft, steady bumps of Eve’s beating heart a lullaby to his ears.

I
had a feeling you might show today,” Lise said without turning. She was seated at the empty bar of Club X, reading a newspaper, a half-eaten bagel in front of her.

“You know me too well,” Cian drawled. The anger of earlier still lingered in his blood. He sighed and glanced around the club squinty eyed. It was strange how a vibrant, pulsing room at night could look so foreign and sterile in the morning.

Red stools sat empty and in a row, pushed tight against the bar. The DJ’s booth now silent. A blue velvet curtain covered the stage. Instead of seeing rows of martini glasses filled with differing shades of liquor on the polished countertop, he noticed they were now hanging by their stems, locked into a metal frame above the bar.

Lise cleared her throat, snatching his attention back to her face. She lifted a gray brow, folded the newspaper, and set it down on the bar with a soft thud. Folding her arms in front of her, she waited patiently as he approached.

The unnerving white of her eyes pinned him. “I suspect you found her in time, then.”

“I did.”

“Sit, please.”

He took a seat next to her and began to idly toy with the lid of a saltshaker.

“I’m glad you did. Her potential means much to me. But”—she waved her hand through the air—“I cannot violate the rules of choice anymore. Either you’ll save her or you won’t. However, that is not why I asked you here today.”

His mind was abuzz and his stomach knotted into a sickening band.
Potential. Potential for what?
It was obvious that Eve’s life was in peril; even a normal could sense that. What bothered him, though, was her choice of words. What the hell did “potential” mean? There were a million possibilities. None of which put him at ease.

“No, Cian. I cannot. I know you wish to know, and perhaps I’ve said too much. The twelve live by a strict code. We cannot alter free will. Not even for an immortal. I’ve given you the best information I could. Decipher it if you can, but ask me nothing.”

He slumped into the seat as a great weight settled in his chest. More mystery. Less truth. What was happening, and why was he the last one to know? Especially when it concerned him or Eve? Damn the immortals and their stupid ethics.

With a bitter twist to his lips, he glared at her. “Who’s the twelve?”

“My sisters. I am one of the chosen twelve.”

“What is a chosen? You’re such an enigma. What are you really, Lise?
Who
are you?”

“Mmmm.” She cocked her head to the side. “That is a mystery for another day.”

He growled. “I don’t know why I expected you to be any different from them.”

She only smiled and placed a wrinkled hand atop his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. Comfort, like from a mother’s hug or that familiar sweater, rolled through him. He took a deep breath, pissed and tired. Weary to the bone.

“I know what you want to ask, but I can’t help you.”

He shot her a glance. “Who, then? How the hell am I supposed to stop The Morrigan? This is a fool’s errand. You know it. I know it…”

She shrugged, slipping her hand off of his. “Maybe. If that’s what you feel, then yes. A fool’s errand. But even fools get lucky.”

He heaved a long sigh, disgusted with all the riddles, all the mystery. Why couldn’t someone give him a straight answer for once?

“Because this is not something I can orchestrate. You must have free will to decide it. There are many paths you can take. Only one will lead you where you want to go. You just have to trust yourself.”

He rolled his eyes. “I see you can read minds.”

She laughed and sat back. “I do have a disgusting habit of meddling, I suppose. Hard not to when you’ve lived as long as I have. You’d be amazed what I hear.”

“I’m sure.” His heart grew even heavier as he continued flicking at the salt lid with single-minded diligence.

“Oh, Cian. I wish I had a better answer for you. I do. Really. But I can’t help you in this.”

“Not surprising. Seems no one has the answers to give.”

“Stay the course. Travel the right path.” The whites of her eyes shone with ivory brilliance.

He huffed, finally sliding the saltshaker away from him, and dropped his head into his hands. Ideas ran through his mind.
Find Frenzy. Kill him.
Though that wouldn’t work, because The Morrigan would only have to send another reaper, and they’d be right back where they started.
Grab Eve and run. Hide deep underground. In some other country. Just away.
But once they started running, they’d never be able to stop, and she wouldn’t want that. She had a life here. Not to mention that if he tried it, then his truth would come out, and who was to say she wouldn’t rather choose death than trust her life to a hypocrite? His heart twisted in his chest.
One last option, then. Find The Morrigan—

“Don’t you even think it. NO!”

Jerked from his thoughts, he turned to her. “You’re not helping me. Dagda’s told me nothing. That is a good plan. At least I’d keep her alive.”

A fiery blast rippled through him. Her nostrils flared as she vibrated with anger; it flowed from her, quickened in the air, and was like shards of ice ripping through him.

He grimaced and grabbed at his chest.

“Maybe now you’ll listen to me.”

In his anger he snapped the glass shaker, scattering salt upon the table and floor.

“I said no. Now leave it be. You’re walking the true path, Cian. Have faith in my words. Don’t give up now, because if you do then she’s truly lost. Now…”

He narrowed his eyes as she turned to him with a large smile and snapped her fingers. A goblet of firewater suddenly sat before him on the table.

“Drink. She’s not been feeding you, I see. Vampire, is it?” Lise chortled with laughter, shaking her head. “Ironic, that. So close and yet so far.”

He snatched up the chalice and chugged the smoky taste of overripe cherries down his throat. “Don’t make light of the situation, Lise—”

“Pft. Light of the situation. Me talking about it won’t make it any better or worse for you. I find it hilarious.”

That was a fine way of describing his personal life. He ground his jaw as anger ate a hole through his chest. “Somehow I don’t see how any of this is funny.”

“How did your date go?” she asked without batting a lash.

“Are you kidding me?” Was she serious? He glanced up at her over the rim of the cup, then back down, and up again. She was still staring at him, questions blazing in her eyes.

“Really?” he murmured, completely caught off guard. This woman, an ancient…and all she wanted to talk about was monotonous things like his dating habits?

Not that Eve wasn’t attractive and didn’t make his head spin with lusty thoughts. Honestly he couldn’t understand why he wanted to be around her all the time, why, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About that almost-kiss on her stoop. How even now she made his blood hot. The fact that Lise would care about his love life boggled him.

A soft smile tipped the corners of her pink mouth. “My mind is consumed by so many things; I find solace in the mediocre.”

He slammed the cup down onto the table, not able to figure out if Lise was mocking him or not. “I don’t know why I came here today.”

“Hell, Cian. If something as small as chatting throws you into a tailspin, no wonder you’re driving yourself sick where Eve is concerned. It’s really not that big a deal. Here, let me help you. ‘Yes, Lise, the date went fine.’” She gave him a pointed stare.

“Ah,” he growled. “It wasn’t a date, just a chance meeting.”

“Oh”—she rolled her eyes—“I swear you take me for a fool. A chance meeting you orchestrated by making sure to stand outside her shop for hours.”

“Minor.”

“I’m sure.”

Despite himself, he grinned.

“Where are you staying?”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Does it matter?”

“So in other words, outside her window?”

“If you know the answers, why do you keep asking the questions?” He couldn’t contain his impatience.

Lise stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “You need someplace to stay.”

“Not really. I don’t plan to stick around too much longer.”

“Uh-huh, right. Look, I’ve got a flat in Presidio Heights, Baker Street. Nice little place, nothing fancy. I’ll lend it to you for a while. It’s already been made over into a bachelor’s paradise, so no foolish knickknacks around to blow your cover or make her think you’re gay.”

This conversation felt very one-sided to him. She kept dismissing him offhand as if what he said was of little consequence.

“No.”

She frowned. “And why not?”

“Because.”

“Please. Give me a better reason than that.”

“Because I don’t want to keep lying. Goddess, Lise, I’ve said too many already. The lies are getting hard to keep track of.”

“You haven’t lied to her.”

“An omission is a lie.”

“Pft.” She huffed. “Trivial. Valiant though stupid your reasons are, I’ll give you one of my own. She believes you a vamp. Vamps have addresses.”

“I’m not a vampire, Lise, and that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. And he read it for what it was: a warning that that she could and would lash out at him again if he continued dismissing her.

He took a deep breath, completely out of his element where this seemingly frail woman was concerned. He shifted around on the seat, glancing toward the exit, fingers fidgeting on his lap. She made him feel like a wee bairn. He growled and her smile grew wider.

“She’s going to ask questions. Wonder why you’ve never taken her to your home. Things for which you’ll have no answer.”

“I’ll tell her the truth.”

“I don’t think so. You honestly think this to be the right time to tell her? A day, two days after meeting?”

She paused, and when he didn’t answer, she took his silence for agreement with a jerky nod.

He sighed. “I can’t keep doing this. All these feelings, and worrying about The Morrigan, Dagda…too much. I’m through, I’m done.”

His words were pure bravado. The truth was that the thought of her with another man, gazing up at him with adoration in her liquid-gold eyes made him want to claw and roar and tear things apart. It was a soul-sucking void of heartache and jealousy.

Lise covered his fist with her own, compassion written across her face. “I know you like her. You can’t afford to disillusion her, not now. She’ll be mad when she finds out. Furious. But if the foundation is solid, then she’ll come around. Unfortunately, I’m telling you to continue the farce.” She shrugged. “Not a good way to start a relationship, I know. In your case, there is no other option.”

“Relationship,” he scoffed. “What relationship? I took her out on one date. In four days, Lise, she’s dead. What use is there in me binding myself to her? I’m too fucking stupid to figure out how to save her.”

He was so frustrated; everything was differing shades of gray to him, so much truth being denied. Who could he turn to for answers? Help? He closed his eyes, a bitter pill to swallow. This had never been anything more than a fool’s errand. Which is probably why The Morrigan staved off Eve’s death for a few days: in the end, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“Look at me.”

He opened his eyes, sick at heart and desperate.

She gripped his arm, her white eyes beginning to glow. “I am on your side, Cian, believe it or not. I want you to succeed. I’ve told you all I could and then some. Think it over and choose wisely.”

He ground his molars, thinking of her sweet scent, her crooked smile, and her glossy black hair. Too late. It was already too damn late. He could no more leave her to her fate than he could walk by a body needing harvesting. He did what he must. He defended what was his.

“Take my home,” Lise said, cutting into his thoughts.

“How did you even know to offer me your home? That I’d come and see you?” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “I didn’t even realize I was coming to see you until moments ago.”

“I know things.” She shrugged.

Frustrated, he glanced away. She knew things and wouldn’t help. Irony was Lise probably knew exactly what he needed to do to keep Eve safe. He looked up but didn’t say anything, just stared.

“Ahh, reaper, I’ve always sensed in you a great sadness. Recently, I’ve tasted hope. Faint, but there. Believe me when I say, you’ll know what to do when the time comes. Instinct. Remember that. It’s instinct. Not thoughts. Now…” She made a grabbing motion in the air, then turned over her fist and opened it, revealing a shiny metal key. “Take my home.”

Lise dropped the key in his hand and stood. “Twenty-one sixty-six Baker Street.”

He fisted the key in his hand. “I’m not afraid of you, Lise.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “You should be.”