Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (13 page)

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tension surrounding him. It was something else, a suspicion I

couldn’t explain.

I slowly moved my arm toward his waiting hand. I lowered my

hand flat like his. I felt it the instant we connected. The same hum flowing from his hand into mine, the taste of apple so sweet it almost made me gag, trickling down the back of my throat.

I snapped my hand back, accusations flying from my mouth.

“Who are you? Are you one of them? Did Lincoln send you?” My

still raw anger toward Lincoln rose to the surface. Did he have people
following
me now?

Phoenix smiled, also taking his hand back and rubbing it on his jeans. “One of
them
? You will have to be more specific; there are so many ‘thems’ these days. But no, Lincoln did not send me, of that you can be sure.” I was getting sick of his condescending smirk. I didn’t find any of this funny.

I got more specific. “Are you a Grigori?”

“No.” He casually leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle and stretching them out.

“But I
felt
you.” This time I whispered.

He sighed. “Is it truly Grigori you are supposed to have the

ability to sense?”

Fear wrapped around me like an old enemy that knew me well.

My voice dropped until I was barely mouthing the word. “Angel.” He stared straight into my eyes with a frightening calm, his smile gone. “Once. One who is here only as a friend. I am no threat.”
Oh. Sure. I feel
so
much
better.

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Jessica shirvington

I stood without thinking and the chair fell from under me,

clanking on the polished cement floor. Everyone looked up from

their tables, collectively eyeballing me. I picked it up quickly, almost tripping over it in the process. I threw a twenty, which was way too much, to the waiter and booked it. I had forgotten my art diary.

Screw
the
diary!

I cut through the botanical gardens, heading for home. I wanted to run, but forced myself to walk. I didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention from the small groups of homeless that

were scattered along the path. I didn’t need any more surprises. I checked over my shoulder intermittently the whole way. No one

was following me.

I powered through the lobby of my building and straight into

the elevator, never so relieved to press number twelve. The doors opened at my floor and I stepped out.

Phoenix was standing by my front door, swinging my art diary

between his thumb and forefinger.

The tension I had only just released came thundering back into

me with crushing speed.

How
did
he
get
here
before
me?

“What are you doing here?” I said, still puffing from my speed-

walk home. He didn’t look rushed at all.

He waved my art diary in the air, smiling with the knowledge

that he’d had an excuse to find me again. We both knew it was total crap, but that only seemed to amuse him all the more.

“How did you know where I live?” I pushed. The doors to the

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elevator started to close behind me. I wanted desperately to get back in and escape.

He’s at my home
.

Was he stalking me?

His mouth twisted with guilty pleasure. “I do admit, I have seen you come into this building before. I didn’t know what floor you were on, but the doorman was kind enough to let me know.”

Great. I was going to give the doorman an earful later. He was a good guy but shit for building security.

“In fairness, I can be quite persuasive,” Phoenix said, as if he’d read my mind. “I don’t imagine he would let just
anyone
up here.” He looked delighted by my panic.

“You’ve been following me.” My mouth was dry, and while I

tried for a steady voice, I knew I wasn’t fooling him.

“Not following, just waiting for an opportunity to introduce

myself. You’re not easy to get alone.”

He was so relaxed while I was completely petrified, and he knew he had all the power. I did the only thing I could; I welcomed anger.

“Enough! You said you were no threat, but you’re an exile!”

From what Griffin said,
no
exiles could be trusted.

“Not everything is black and white, Violet. Don’t believe everything you’ve been told. I’m…I don’t fit into any of your little boxes.

Anyway, if I meant to hurt you, it would be done.” This guy had clearly not had much practice in the art of reassurance.

“Then why are you stalking me?” I spluttered.

He raised his eyebrows. “Stalking? No. I sensed you at Hades

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the other night. I sensed you as soon as you walked in. I was interested to…meet you.”

“So you’ve been following me since my birthday!”

He leaned back against my doorframe. “Yes. And before you

ask, yes…I saw. The best kisses are always the ones that take us by surprise.” He stared into space, reminiscently. I didn’t want to know what he was imagining at that moment.

“You watched?” I was disgusted but also blushing.

“Usually I prefer a more active role but”— he smirked slyly— “all in good time.”

He was playing with me, baiting me. I stood tall, staring back at him defiantly.
I
don’t run.

His expression changed. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like

surprise. His eyes held mine and I couldn’t seem to turn away. The longer I stared at him, the more I felt my doubts start to lift. I’d been so sure that I needed to get away from this guy, this
exile
, but looking into his eyes…my apprehension softened to the point where I found myself unable to imagine him doing any harm. I was still aware of my previous concerns, but they were sliding further away with each second. It was confusing, and while I was starting to feel more confidence in him, I was less and less sure of myself.

To be safe, I tried to keep my guard up.

“I’m not a Grigori,” I blurted. “I just have the essence thing. You need to leave. Now.” I returned his glare. He looked down at my art diary in his hand and then slowly lifted it for me to take.

I took a tentative step in his direction, and as I did, reality 104

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seemed to waver around me. I could hear the flapping of wings and leaves colliding. It was peaceful, violent, and eerie all at once. Over that, I could hear my heartbeat, pounding like I was listening to it through a stethoscope. I closed the distance and glanced up at him.

His eyes, so brown they looked black, latched on to me and

pulled me into his gaze. I saw a flash of sadness. It coursed through my body, enveloping me in sorrow. My heart ached for him as if it were my own. My hand flew to my chest as I recognized the depth of his misery, and I swallowed hard. Then the look was gone and he replaced it with something else. Desire?

It washed the sadness away with a relentless force. I felt it as if it were my own, my desire…for him. I leaned toward him and

grabbed the edge of the diary. Through the connection, I felt a hum of energy. Then, somehow, it quieted.

He slowly pulled the diary toward him, giving me time to take

my hand away should I choose. Part of me wanted to, knew I

should. But I didn’t. There was a connection I couldn’t explain.

When we were just inches apart, he reached out his other hand

and placed it flat on my collarbone. I took a deep breath in. It felt as if he had touched me in the one place that could affect me the most. It seemed more intimate than anything else he could have

done. The hum that flickered on my skin was like small lightning bolts, but not painful. Not even close to painful.

I knew he could move his hand up and squeeze. I was sure he

had the strength to snap my neck, yet just as sure he wouldn’t. He moved toward me, to kiss me. I stopped breathing. Just as his lips 105

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were about to touch mine, he stopped, breathed in deeply, and

whispered, “You smell of apple. It’s so…” His lips were so close to mine. With each word, I could feel the vibration of his voice and the warmth of his breath— it smelled of vanilla. I stood, frozen, waiting. His hand slipped slowly from my collarbone up to the side of my face. I felt my body react and it wasn’t helping me.

He whispered again, “I’ll not take from you, Violet. You will

be the one to kiss me.” He stepped back and smiled as if he knew exactly how much he had affected me. “When you want it most.”

My legs were so weak I wasn’t sure how I was still upright. He

released his hold on the diary slowly and moved away, clearing my path to the door with a sweeping hand gesture.

“I’m sorry that I came to your home without invitation. I will

leave you in”— he gave a half laugh— “peace.” He opened the door to the stairwell.

“There’s an elevator,” I said on autopilot.

“Too slow.” He smiled and added, “You’re not the same as the

others, Violet. You radiate power. If you hide from it, it will only punish you.”

“They said it was my choice,” I said quickly.

“Of course. But choice and consequence are not the same for

everyone. I suspect your power will not make it easy to ignore. An angel who can impart such a strong essence must have been confident you’d embrace it. Good-bye, Violet…for now.” And then he

was gone.

I stood, motionless. He had been going to kiss me.

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And
I
was
going
to
let
him!

What was happening to me? Those first thoughts trickled into

my mind, and they were the pebbles that preceded the avalanche.

This day, this week, my whole life roared through my head and tore at my heart. Thoughts I had been trying to ignore crashed through my weakened defenses. Would I ever have my life back as I knew it?

Was Lincoln using me? And possibly the worst— had my mother

done this to me?

I fell to my knees. I couldn’t breathe. As my vision began to

cloud, I heard the door open. I had no time to look before there was…nothing.

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chapter
thirteen

“Every visible thing in this world is put in the charge of an
Angel.”

saint aUgUstine

Something cold and wet was suff ocating me. I gasped in shock,

opening my eyes to a cloudy haze. Someone was trying to kill

me. I sighted the fi gure, still blurred, hovering over me. I needed freedom and acted on impulse. In a move that was a combination

of self-defense and kickboxing, I bent my arm and swung to hit my assailant in the face, elbow fi rst. I couldn’t see clearly, but I felt the impact. It wasn’t my best eff ort, but it was enough to buy me a few seconds to get in a better defensive position. I got to my hands and knees, crawling as fast as I could.

He was yelling at me, coming after me. He sounded frantic. I

felt him getting closer. I looked over my shoulder and my vision cleared. Sounds morphed into words. “Violet, Violet, stop! It’s me!” Th e living room started clicking into place.

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“Dad?” I said, still groggy.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, rubbing his face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, increasingly confused.

“It’s that stupid company golf day. I just stopped in to get

changed. Damn, Violet.” He opened the freezer and grabbed a bag of peas. “You’re going to have to ease up on the martial arts. This is going to bruise.”

He looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. I

was glad. I didn’t have any answers for him anyway. Well, none

that I could admit to. I wasn’t up to exposing my freak-hood

to Dad.

Pulling myself together took some time. A shower and change

of clothes helped to bring back a little normality to my world. I dressed in comfy jeans paired with a long- sleeved T- shirt to cover my arms. Being surrounded by things that were mine— my choices, my tastes— had suddenly never seemed more important.

I curled up on the couch while Dad watched me restlessly from