Kick The Candle (Knight Games) (18 page)

Julius stood up, knocking his chair back with a clatter. “How? I sent you the money. Why didn’t you buy the house?”

“I tried! He bought it first before I could get a loan.”

Julius began to pace in front of the door. “This is undesirable.”

“You don’t say.” I pressed a finger into my lips. “There’s something I don’t understand. You think the
Book of Flesh and Bone
is hidden on my property. If Anna and everybody else knows about the nekomata, why is she coming after me? The city is swarming with supernaturals looking for this thing. If there was any rumor it was in or around my house, why are they in the city and not Red Grove?”

“Anna Bathory has compelled every supernatural creature within a one hundred mile radius to help her find the book. But make no mistake; she doesn’t actually want any of them to find it. Her purpose is to raise an army, so that should the nekomata obtain the grimoire first, they will never be able to leave with it. Believe me, if the book were hidden anywhere but on your property, Anna would already have it. The fact that she doesn’t proves it is still protected by your magic. I suspect that’s why she might’ve killed you tonight, to see if your death would break the enchantment.”

Shit
. So, Bathory wanted me dead. Great. “One more question. Why don’t
you
want the book, Julius?”

He stood, leaving his glass at the desk and folding his hands behind his back. With a stony expression, he paced toward me, approaching the bed like a predator. I noticed for the first time that his low-slung jeans and silver waffle weave shirt concealed an impressive physique. Smarmy, yes, but at one time Julius had been an attractive specimen of a man. I briefly wondered how he’d become a vampire.

He stopped at my side. “I do want the book, Hecate, as much as I want the blood that courses through your veins. You have no reason to trust me. You shouldn’t trust me. I was a bad man, and I’ve become an even worse vampire. Even now I am tempted to drink your blood until I can feel the suction of your veins collapsing and hear the fading rhythm of your heart. Watching you pale would give me great pleasure.”

I stiffened in his bed. He was too close. His face lowered toward my broken body.

“But you see, my dear witch, I find myself in the unenviable position of needing to keep you alive. For as much as I want the book, Anna is the older, more powerful vampire. If she gets her hands on it, we will all become her immortal slaves. I’m not willing to bow to her or lose my coven.”

The cold curl of his breath forced me back on the mattress. He was in my face now and his fangs had dropped. His blue eyes fixated on my neck.

“Then you’d better keep me alive.”

“If the house has already sold, maybe it doesn’t matter.” A trace of evil permeated his voice, his previously congenial tone swept away by a hungry, lascivious glare.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“I best not kill you,” he said, more to himself than to me. His icy cold hand swept down my arm to my bloody and bruising wrist. He lifted it above my head, pressing it into the pillow.

I whimpered. The injuries caused by Bathory’s ropes throbbed under his touch.

At the sound of my pain, he inhaled deeply. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him adjust himself in his jeans. He was hard, and I was in trouble. Flattening my back to his bed, I was too weak to do much else. He collected my other wrist and pinned it above my head.

“They say a witch’s blood tastes like silk and gives the energy of ten humans.” He parted my knees with his own and stretched out on top of me, propping his weight on his elbows as he restrained my arms. He settled his hips between my legs.

“Please don’t.” My heart was pounding. My rib ached as his body pressed into mine. With no energy to fight back, a tear rolled down my cheek.

His tongue lapped over my jugular.

“You need me, remember? Don’t do it, Julius.”

Cool breath chilled the wet spot he’d left on my skin. “Just a taste. I can stop.”

I braced myself for the strike but nothing could prepare me for the pain. Unlike with Rick, my flesh didn’t part for his teeth; it fought the invasion. I screamed in agony as he ripped into me. I cried in earnest, the sounds of his swallowing bringing back memories of my last death, when Marcus had killed me.

My chest felt heavy, heart struggling against the loss of blood. I was tired. All I had to do was close my eyes and I might never wake up again. “Julius, stop,” I rasped.

“Mmm.” Julius groaned into my neck. He wasn’t going to stop. He was going to kill me.

Rick
,
help me
, I thought one last time. I fought to remain conscious.

Suddenly, a section of the ceiling exploded, wood beams and brick blowing into the room. Light poured through the hole, sending Julius fleeing to the safety of the shadow behind his desk. Sweet sunshine washed over me, around an impressive silhouette. I didn’t have to see his face. Deep inside, the most instinctual part of me knew it was Rick. He’d come for me. Even though he hated me, he’d come for me.

To the sound of Poe’s caw in the background, Rick hastily swept me up into his arms. What happened next wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know he shouldn’t have moved me. As he folded my body in half, all of the blood rushed from my head and my rib slipped. I couldn’t draw a breath. And then I was gone again. I’d lost myself.

Deep, buried under the darkness at the bottom of an ocean, I was drowning. I gulped the salt water, filling my mouth. Too late. It was too late. I’d never reach the surface. Arms flailing, I struggled. It had been forever since my last real breath of air.
Was I already dead
?

“
Mi cielo
, breathe, breathe darling.”

Rick
. I swallowed what was in my mouth. Not salt water, but blood. His blood. A reflexive gasp broke my lips, and I cranked my good eye open. The sun poured in. I absorbed its energy into my very soul. Pain screamed through my body, Rick’s blood working from the inside out. As unpleasant as the hurt was, the ache told me I wasn’t dead; I was healing. I was alive. I was alive!

A
warm, wet cloth blotted my skin, tugging me awake. My eyes fluttered open. The slosh and dribble of a cloth being rinsed and wrung was enough motivation for me to keep them open. I was in Rick’s bedroom, stretched out next to him on his bed, his broad shoulders hunched over a basin of water.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. He ran the cloth back up my arm, rinsing the remainder of dried blood from my skin.

“Heavy all over. Like a truck hit me.”

“You’re lucky to be alive. Your injuries were extensive, and Julius drained you just short of death. My blood will heal you, but it will take some time for your body to produce what’s missing.”

I probably needed a transfusion. Not gonna happen. A trip to the hospital would bring questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.

“How did you find me?”

“Poe. After I left Valentine’s, he tracked me down. It took some time for him to convince me you were in mortal danger.”

“And that was the only reason you came? Because I was in
mortal
danger?” I croaked.

He threw the rag into the basin, causing the water to slosh violently. “I came because I am your caretaker. I am bound to you. I have no choice but to come when you call, whether I want to or not.”

“I tried to tell you at Valentine’s, Rick—”

“—that you’re in love with Logan? That you want your cake and to eat it too?” he hissed.

“Let me explain about Logan.”

He clamped a hand over my mouth. “I don’t want to talk about Logan, unless of course you would rather he care for you?”

I shook my head. Hurt darkened his gray eyes. I needed to explain that I hadn’t wanted Logan to kiss me. I needed to tell him a leprechaun had drugged me, and it was all a big mistake. But I could see that he wasn’t open to more conversation. He was still too raw, and I was so exhausted, I wasn’t sure I could find the words.

He released my mouth. “Are you hungry?”

“I should tell you why they tortured me,” I rasped.

With thumb and forefinger, he pinched my lips shut. “Not yet. We need you well, and I fear reliving the story will further drain you.”

I nodded.

“I will prepare a meal for you.”

“Out of what? You don’t eat, and you don’t have a phone to order food.”

A ghost of a smile turned the corner of his lip. “I’ve been keeping some groceries lately, in hopes that you would stay more often.” He spoke the words softly, like an admission.

The surrender in his voice broke my heart. Even though he believed I didn’t return his feelings, he’d resolved himself to care for me. Tears pooled in my eyes and I swore that, when I was strong enough, I’d find a way to thank him. Then, I’d explain that I didn’t love Logan at all and more, I’d figure out what this feeling was deep inside my chest, and I’d tell him about that too.

* * * * *

“
M
i cielo
, time to eat.” Rick cradled my upper body in one arm while he stacked pillows behind my head.

I tried to sit up on my own and failed. Instead, I managed to wrap an arm around his neck to make it easier for him to reposition me. “Thank you,” I whispered in his ear.

He closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath, hugging his cheek to mine until it was obvious he’d positioned the pillows as much as needed. Once he’d lowered me carefully into the soft nest he’d made, he lifted a bowl and ladled the soup.

“Open.”

I did, and he poured the hot liquid into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed. “What kind of soup is this?” I asked. It tasted like herbal tea with vegetables, not exactly bad but not like my dad used to make… and my dad can’t cook.

“I found a spell for a healing infusion of herbs and added some vegetables known to be healthful. The meat I’d purchased was spoiled but I can get some later if you’d like.”

I swallowed another bite. It was growing on me. I could definitely feel healing warmth infusing my body from the brew. “It’s fine,” I said. “I think it’s working.”

His eyes twinkled with a smile that didn’t quite reach his lips but warmed the air between us. Deep inside, that feeling filled me again, the one I’d felt when I’d watched him try to warn me about Monk when I was Isabella. I’d also experienced this when I’d woken up in Maison des Étoiles and when he’d saved me from Julius. I’d been in love before and this wasn’t what I remembered; it was stronger. This emotion was a great and powerful mystery I wasn’t ready to solve.

“Where did you find me anyway? Julius said he moved from Tiltworld.”

“The coven has purchased the Thames Theatre, now in immediate need of renovation.”

“A theatre? Smart. Dark, no windows.”

“Yes. Julius is a worthy adversary.”

“He’s nothing compared to Bathory.”

Rick slipped another spoonful into my mouth. “No more talk. You need to rest.”

Now that he mentioned it, I was exhausted again. I leaned back into the pillows and held up my hand when he tried to feed me another bite. “Rick, will you do something for me?”

“Of course,
mi cielo
. Would you like something different to eat?”

“No. Tell me about the day we met. The first time. Before you were my caretaker.” I dug my fingers out from under the covers and entwined them with his.

Eyebrows rose in surprise. He met my gaze. What I saw in his expression bordered on disturbing: loss, grief, reminiscence, and love. Slowly, he pulled his hand away, but he did not deny me. In a silky-smooth ripple of a voice, he began his story.

“I was only fifteen when we met the first time. You looked the same age but perhaps you were older. Red Grove was a much different place then, with stone cottages like this one distant from each other to allow for the acres of land families must farm to survive. The members of our community lived austere lives of faith. Monk’s church was our hub, and his Sunday service, the only time we were all in the same room.

“In some ways it was a simpler time. Expectations were clear and opportunities were few. I was a curious boy with a fascination for the unknown. When I’d finished my chores, I would wander into the woods, sometimes for miles, under the guise of going hunting. In truth, I rarely sought game, but instead visited a fresh water pool at the bottom of a waterfall where I taught myself to swim. My mother would become quite worried at my long absences but would allow it because occasionally I would bring back wild game or fish.”

He smiled wistfully. I wondered what his mother was like but didn’t want to sidetrack his story, so I nestled into the pillows and listened.

“The day we met, I was swimming, floating on my back in the pool, when I saw you for the first time. I opened my eyes, and there you were, watching me from the shoulder of the waterfall. Of course, I became quite flustered and thrashed to shore.”

I giggled. “Why would my fifteen year old self fluster you?”

He smiled, and a hint of color warmed his cheeks. “One reason, I was naked, and another, you were a Wampanoag Indian.”