Immortal Craving (Dark Dynasties) (18 page)

When he opened his eyes, they glowed like dancing flames. His elongated fangs glittered in the near dark when he spoke, and still, she found it impossible to be afraid of him.

“I want to,” he whispered. The sudden uncertainty that clouded his expression startled her as he continued, “But… you should have more. More than this. I’m not even—”

“Stop,” Bay said, gentle but firm. Tasmin obliged her, swallowing the rest of whatever he’d been about to say. He couldn’t possibly come up with any more caveats than she’d tried to use on herself. Nothing had worked. And it was clear from the way Tasmin held her, watched her, that he hadn’t had any luck at turning away from the connection between them either.

Silently, Bay slipped her hands beneath his jacket, beneath his shirt, hungrily seeking the feel of hard flesh that still seemed kissed by the sun. The heat of him flowed into her, and he shuddered, the muscles jumping beneath her fingertips.

“It needs to be soon,” Bay said softly. Somehow, it was easy to tell him what she wanted, what she needed, when it was a struggle for her with anyone else. She’d had no idea how much need she had. Maybe, in her own way, as much as Tasmin.

Slowly, he nodded, the promise in his eyes enough to steal her breath away.

“Soon is all I have to give,
meri jaan
… but it’s yours if you want it.”

She found no words with which to respond, only a strange sense of relief. Bay nodded, and she saw a similar relief reflected in his eyes, though tinged with regret. He already regretted the hurt he would cause her. Knowing that caused an ache deep in her chest unlike any she’d felt before.

Tasmin lowered his head to hers again, and Bay tipped her chin up to meet him. But she felt only the barest brush of his lips before there was a soft sound off to the side of them.

Someone was clearing their throat.

Bay’s eyes flew open, and she and Tasmin looked at one another for a long moment. It never seemed to be the right time.

And it really did need to be soon.

They both tried to disentangle themselves at the same time, nearly toppling over one another trying to keep their footing. Bay’s legs felt rubbery and strange, but she finally managed to straighten and turn to find a gorgeous, dark-haired woman, her hand on the pull handle of her suitcase, standing just a little ways away on the flagstone path to the door.

The woman was staring at Tasmin as though she’d seen a ghost.

“You,” she said. “I know you.”

“And I remember you,” Tasmin said, and though his voice was as silken as ever, when Bay turned to look at him, she realized how shaken he was.

“I didn’t remember your name. Still, when they said you were an Empusa, mated to one of my kind… I wondered. So you and Rai—”

The woman nodded, and Bay saw, to her amazement, that there was a sheen of tears in her dark eyes. This was Anura, she realized. The one Tasmin had been so determined to talk to.

“Yes. He was mine,” Anura said. “I never thought I’d see your kind again once he was lost. He was one of the last. The Rakshasa are dust.”

“I’m not dust. And I am Rakshasa.”

There was silence as Tasmin and Anura regarded one another, and Bay suddenly felt as though she was intruding on something private. These two had obviously shared someone in their past. She backed away, realizing suddenly that Grimm had parked himself on the top step and flopped down, watching them all mournfully. He was also turning white—in the heat of the moment, Bay hadn’t even noticed that big, fat flakes were now falling from the sky at a good clip.

The snow had finally come.

“Will you come inside?” Anura finally asked. She looked only at Tasmin, as though Bay wasn’t even there. And to her, Bay knew, she wasn’t. They’d never met. She probably just assumed she was some stupid human bimbo he’d picked up for some fun and a drink in town. Bay understood that was often how it worked… but that didn’t make the dismissal any easier to swallow.

It was just another reminder that they didn’t fit. No one would imagine them to be anything but predator and prey, however mutually agreeable that situation might be to some.

So Bay’s heart sang when Tasmin turned to hold his hand out to her. For right now, they were in this together. Unequal partners, maybe, but partners.

Bay slipped her hand into his, and together, they headed for the door.

H
E HAD FORGOTTEN HER NAME
, like he had forgotten so many other things. But he hadn’t forgotten Anura’s face, and it had stunned him, this small piece of his past that had managed not to be crushed along with so much else.

He tried not to grip Bailey’s hand too tightly. He supposed it should shame him, that he would want her so desperately as an anchor when things around him—and within him—kept shifting. He had never been a weakling. He should be the rock, she the one who sought comfort. But since he’d met her, that often seemed to be flipped around. It might have infuriated him, had he not been so glad to have her beside him.

Pretty thing.

He fought off a shudder as the words slithered through his mind. A reminder of what he was up against. But maybe Anura would have some answers.

Ty let them in, and Tasmin caught the glance at Bailey’s hand caught in his. The cat’s silver eyes narrowed
ever so slightly, but he said nothing. Tasmin doubted he would. Lily had said all anyone was going to, which amounted to fair warning:
I won’t have her hurt
.

He would have expected no less.

“Bay,” Ty said once he’d greeted Anura, “I didn’t figure we’d see you tonight. Is everything okay?”

Bailey’s hand gripped his just a little more tightly, and Tasmin remembered what she’d come for.

“Not really,” she said, and explained what she’d seen.

Ty cursed softly in Gaelic, while Tasmin tried to watch Bailey without looking like he was staring. It was difficult. She looked as beautiful tonight as she always did, her hair caught up in a loose bun, her cheeks pink from both the cold and rubbing against his face. Her lips were still slightly swollen from his kisses, her eyes bright. The signs of his touch that lingered on her brought on a wave of possessiveness that surprised him with its ferocity.

Mine
, he thought. And then, from the dark places inside, another voice bubbled up:
I will drink the blood of her heart, Rakshasa. I will make her beg before she dies.

Tasmin’s stomach did a slow roll.
Never. Never that.

“I don’t suppose you got a close look at any of them?” Ty asked.

She shook her head, and a wavy lock of hair fell over one eye. Tasmin brushed it aside to tuck it behind her ear before he really thought about it. Immediately, he felt both Ty’s and Anura’s eyes on him. Flustered, he pulled away from Bailey altogether and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Gods knew he would do something else stupid with them before long if he didn’t force himself to stop.

What was between them was for no one else.

“I don’t think recognizing any one vampire was really
the point,” Bailey said. “I think it was just about scaring me. And telling you.”

“It’s good you came here,” Anura said to her. “They’re almost certainly Ptolemy.” She turned to Ty. “She’s getting bolder. How long has it been like this?”

“Since I came,” Tasmin said, answering for him. “It’s me. Arsinöe wants me.”

Anura looked puzzled. “All this for you? The last Rakshasa would be a prize for someone like her, I’m sure. But I’m surprised she’s risking so much to get her hands on you, and now, of all times. Warring with one another when our enemy would like nothing better than to pick us off one by one is foolish. Arsinöe could be called a lot of things, but foolish has never been one of them.”

“I know her as well as anyone,” Ty replied. “I don’t know what this is about, but I do know one thing. Her reasons for doing this will end up being worse than whatever I could come up with. She has no boundaries.”

Tasmin looked at him curiously. “You were close to the queen?”

“I was her prized pet.”

That surprised him… and gave him a better appreciation of just what Ty had been up against to get to where he was. It still stunned Tasmin that the Cait Sith had managed to break away at all. Ty was right—the queen of the Ptolemy was not a woman easily defeated or deterred.

And from the look on the man’s face, he was being forced to remember exactly how true that was. His expression was grim.

“I’m sorry about this, Bay,” Ty said.

“It isn’t your fault, Ty,” Bailey said firmly. “It isn’t anybody’s fault except that ancient Egyptian bitch.”

Ty’s smile was rueful. “True enough. I’ll take a few people over to your house, cats and wolves both, and we’ll see what we can find. The town will need a sweep as well, for all the good it’ll do us.” He growled, a soft, frustrated sound. “They know how well we can all track. The ones we find will just be sacrificial lambs, useful tools she’s got no issues parting with. This is a stunt to taunt us, nothing more.”

“And to warn you,” Anura murmured, looking pointedly at Bailey. “This won’t be the end.”

“Her games won’t end until she does,” Tasmin said. Arsinöe had always been good at pinpointing where to strike so she would inflict the most pain. A mortal woman, highly valued by both Lily and her kind, made a tantalizing—and relatively easy—target. Killing her would demoralize the dynasty Arsinöe considered her enemy. And if she’d been watching, she knew it would wound him as well.

That was a thing it was too late to change.

“Come on,” Ty said. “Bay, I’ll pick up some things for you when we’re at your place, and
please
don’t argue. I know we’d all feel better if you stayed at least the night. Depending on what we find, we can figure out tomorrow when it comes.”

Tasmin could see the fear beginning to show through the brave facade she put up. It was telling that Bailey didn’t look inclined to argue.

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t really feel like going back there tonight.” Then she sighed, a frustrated rush of air, and frowned into the distance. “I have to close the shop for the next few days, at least until I’m sure things have died down here. I won’t have them targeting anyone else I care about. Anna and Shelby matter more than the money.
This will be paid time off for them.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m going to have a mess with the customers, but I’ll manage. Somehow.”

She sounded so disheartened, but there was nothing he could do about it. Just another sign of his helplessness. He wished there were something he could tear apart to vent his frustration.

Ty ushered them all into Lily’s favorite parlor at the back of the mansion, a room of warm woods and clean-lined furniture that Tasmin found he liked, though not quite as well as the cozy nest Bailey had created for herself. Still, it was a reflection of the woman who owned it—elegant, beautiful, but accessible. When they walked in, Lily herself was already occupied saying hello to Grimm, who had bounded in this direction the moment the front door had opened and scattered the snow he’d been wearing in every which direction.

She looked up when they entered, her warm smile broadening when she took in the group of them.

“Hey, everyone’s here!” She threw her arms around Anura, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Tasmin watched, wondering how the women knew one another. They had the look of old friends, which they could hardly be with Lily so young. But then, he’d said it to Lily himself—she was now the ruler of a dynasty that had once been the nexus of them all. So it would be again, no matter how Arsinöe fought it.

Lily drew back from Anura and looked curiously at Bailey.

“Bay, did you get introduced already? And Tasmin? I should have been keeping a better eye out, I got my nose stuck in a book—”

Tasmin glanced around the room and saw a paperback laying open and facedown on an end table beside a barrel chair.

“It’s all right,” Tasmin said. “It turns out that Anura and I knew each other a little, once.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Anura’s smile was bright, but wavered quickly. Outside, she’d stared at him as though he were nothing but a spirit. But to her, he and his kind had been ghosts for centuries. He was sure her feelings for Rai, strong as they must have been, only made it worse.

“No, it’s true,” Anura said. “My mate, Rai, was the leader of Tasmin’s pride. I wasn’t around much when Tasmin was among them—Rai and I spent a lot of years dancing around one another before we finally quit being stupid—” She stopped herself, and Tasmin was surprised to hear so much pain in her voice.

“It doesn’t matter. I remember they sometimes talked about men they’d lost. I never imagined your mysterious Rakshasa was one.”

Lily looked between the two of them. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Everything that’s happened seems to have been for a reason. Pieces clicking back together.”

“Despite some people’s best efforts to stop them,” Ty interjected. He’d hung back for the greetings, but the air about him had gone from brooding to murderous. Any Ptolemy that crossed his path tonight would die—Tasmin knew it, and wished he could join him. For once, it would be an acceptable outlet for all the hunger and rage he carried within.

But if he didn’t talk to Anura now, he might not get another chance. There was a storm coming to this place.
He could feel it in the air. It might very well hit before he got the answers he so desperately wanted.

As Ty filled Lily in, he saw bright flickers of light begin to jump between her fingertips. She would make a formidable enemy, especially in a century or so when she’d had time to sit with her power. That was, if she made it that far. Her fury was a palpable thing.

“I’ll leave you all now,” she said, her voice strained. There was a strange light in her eyes. “There are preparations I need to start making.”

“Lily,” Bailey said softly, and when her friend looked at her, she actually shrank back a little. In her anger, Lily was unmistakably immortal. Tasmin knew that this was the heart of the tension he felt even now between the two women, the gulf they couldn’t breach unless Bailey, alone, crossed it. And he couldn’t imagine a woman so suited to sunlight doing that willingly.