Ascension (17 page)

Lealandra cupped his cheek and her brow furrowed. “Taig?”

He rolled his shoulders, grimacing at the same time as his eyes brightened, all the fires of Hell burning in them for a brief flash. His pain tore into her through where she touched him and then abated when he growled and straightened. His wings folded back and then disappeared, and he shifted out of her reach. With a frown, he looked over his shoulder at his back and pulled on his ruined black shirt.

“They’re gonna pay now,” he muttered casually but she could hear the agony in his voice. “This was my favourite shirt.”

Humour in the face of danger. It was just like Taig and it brought a smile to her lips even though it didn’t reach her heart. That was still pounding with fear, sending tremors along every nerve in her body. She shouldn’t have got him involved. The thought of him being hurt ripped her apart inside and stripped her of her strength. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if something happened to him. It would kill her.

Her eyes roamed his face, searching for a sign of his pain. It echoed within her, her power detecting what he was hiding so well. It was just like him to keep her on the periphery and pretend he was fine when he needed assistance. She wasn’t going to allow it this time. She was going to help him.

Taig turned to face the direction the attack had come from and she gasped when she saw the ripped back of his shirt and the five long tracks of blood trailing down his skin from his shoulders.

Without hesitation, she stepped up to him and touched the red angry skin around each wound. Her eyes widened further. “We need to get these bullets out of you.”

He looked over his shoulder at her.

Lealandra stared at the wound directly in front of her. The bullet had lodged into his left shoulder, a bloody welt in the middle of his mark. She raised her hand, brought it close to the wound and focused on it. Taig unleashed an ungodly roar as the bullet eased out of his skin, drawn by her magic. She held it in the air with her power, wondering how such a tiny piece of metal could do so much damage, and then released it and watched it fall and hit the floor with a light metallic ting.

“You might want to give me a bottle of whisky before you try that one again.” Red eyes met hers, his voice dark and menacing.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. He would never hurt her but when he looked like this, so close to releasing his demonic side, instinct took over and told her to run.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she said with false lightness.

His eyes narrowed but melted back to black. He scanned the alley in all directions and then held his hand out. “Keys. Let’s get you the hell out of here.”

Lealandra frowned at his outstretched hand. She wanted to remove the rest of the bullets but his tone and expression said not to even mention it and to do as he was saying. She would wait until they were back at his apartment and safe before she convinced him to let her take out the rest.

“I’m driving. You’re in no condition to get behind the wheel.” Lealandra kept the keys tucked tightly in her hand.

Darkness swept across his face but quickly dissipated. His broad shoulders rose in a shrug that didn’t fool her and he held his arm out to one side. She walked past him, heading for her car at the other end of the alley. Her heart jump-started again when she stepped out into the wide street, her eyes darting about as her power reached out to check her surroundings for any demon signatures. The only one that came back was Taig.

The demon must have tracked her car and been waiting for them to return to it. If they hadn’t been so distracted, one of them probably would have sensed the presence of the demon before it could open fire.

Her thoughts drifted to her parents and a flicker of fear for them beat in her heart. They would be safe. Such a weak demon wouldn’t stand a chance against them but it didn’t stop her from worrying.

Taig kept behind her, a second shadow that moved so closely that she could feel him brushing against her body. His hip grazed her backside when she reached the door of her car and a quiet thrill chased over her skin at the contact, followed by a flush of prickly heat. She swallowed and pressed the button on her fob to unlock the doors.

Taig moved back a few inches when she opened the door and slid behind the wheel. He closed the door for her and rounded the hood of the car. She stared at his exposed back. His shirt was in tatters but the gunfire hadn’t torn it apart. It had been those wings. She had never realised that he had them. What would he look like if he shed his human visage?

He slid his bulky frame into the seat beside her and nodded towards the road, a silent command for her to drive. She did. It was difficult to stick within the speed limit when she could feel Taig’s pain and wanted to get him home so she could tend to his wounds, and she didn’t bother to park far away when they finally reached his neighbourhood. The garage beneath his building was open. She drove down into it and spotted the space that matched his apartment number. It was empty. She threw the car into it and switched off the engine.

Taig stepped out of the car first, coming around to open the door for her. His chivalry drew a smile and the way he stayed impossibly close to her during the quick walk through his building made searing hot memories of their time together leap to the forefront of her mind. He slipped his arm around her waist and held her close as he unlocked his front door, and she found herself willing him to slow down so she could savour the feel of him against her. He slid the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open. She kept still when he motioned for her to remain where she was.

He walked into the apartment ahead of her, stalking through the darkness like a predator while she waited on the threshold. He really wasn’t taking any chances. She warmed inside and then a sudden emptiness opened within her. Watching him now, she wished she had never left him. Charlie may have been her Counter-Balance but Taig was so much more than that. He was everything she had ever wanted and he understood her better than Charlie.

Better than anyone.

“It’s clear,” Taig said and then disappeared again.

Lealandra flicked on the entrance hall lights and closed the door, sliding every bolt into place and turning every lock. She tugged off her knee high boots and then walked into the lounge. The large white space still didn’t suit Taig. She preferred his old apartment. That one had colour and life. That one had felt like a home.

The sound of the shower kicking in drew her attention to the bedroom. Her feet carried her there of their own volition and she moved as though in a dream, pulled to Taig and filled with a need to help him whether he liked it or not. His clothes were scattered across the bedroom floor and her eyes idly scanned over them before moving to the door of the bathroom. It was ajar.

Swallowing her nerves, she pushed it open. She shed her clothes and her inhibitions on her way to the shower cubicle and slid the door open. Taig had his back to her, the hot water bouncing off his shoulders and running through his black hair, plastering it to his head.

“Don’t turn around,” she warned and he dragged a hand over his hair, long fingers tangling in it. “I’m purely here to get these bullets out of you. That’s all.”

Lealandra stepped into the cubicle and slid the glass door closed. Even though the cubicle was big enough for two, Taig took up most of it. His broad tanned shoulders drew her gaze as he moved to accommodate her, shifting away from the spray of the shower. She stepped under the water and tilted her head back to wet her hair so it would stay out of her face while she worked. Taig sighed and every muscle on his back moved with it, dancing beneath his skin in a symphony that echoed on her heartstrings. Her gaze raked over him, refreshing her memory of his body. It lingered on the sculpted globes of his backside and the two dimples in his lower back above them. She had forgotten just how breathtaking his body was when he was naked. Six years without him suddenly felt as though it had been an eternity in Hell and she was itching to touch him, to trail her fingertips over every inch of his body and never stop.

He moved and she realised he was about to look over his shoulder at her. Coming to her senses, she reached up and pressed her hand to his cheek, pushing his head back so he couldn’t see her.

“No peeking.” Either her chastisement or the way her breasts squashed against his back elicited a long sigh from him. “Do you want a drink before I do this?”

A shake of his head was his answer. She set down on the heels of her bare feet and moved back a few inches so she could get a better look at the wounds. Rivulets of red mixed with the water running down his back. The wound she had removed the bullet from was already closing. She had forgotten he had preternatural healing speed. In a day or two, all evidence of tonight’s attack would be gone from his body. He would be perfect again, save a few new scars to wax lyrical about in the future.

Lealandra held her hand an inch from the first wound and slowly drew it away, using her magic to pull the bullet free of his flesh. It clattered onto the floor of the shower and she moved onto the next, wanting to do it quickly so it would cause Taig less pain. The only sound Taig made as each bullet popped free of his skin was a low grunt but his arms were tense and trembling, his hands clenched into tight fists of restraint. His body could heal quickly but he still felt pain as keenly as a human did. The final bullet fell and she moved backwards, under the jet of water. Her hands shook when she placed them on his waist and brought him backwards with her until the water was running down his back. He hissed and went rigid.

Driven by a desire to take away some of the pain he was feeling, Lealandra ran her hands up his sides to his elbows and from there coursed them up over his strong arms to his shoulders. He relaxed a touch but there was still immense pain in him. It called to her power and made her want to heal him, sparking her curiosity again. When Charlie had died, she had understood why her magic had wanted to heal him. It had wanted to restore her Counter-Balance. Without it, she was in danger of slipping into the darkness that such potent power evoked within her. Was it possible that her magic saw Taig as a replacement Counter-Balance that needed restoration and protection, or was it her heart that dictated her actions? Confusion swam in her mind, filling her with conflicting thoughts. Taig couldn’t be her Counter-Balance. He was half demon and bore no magic.

It had to be her heart that desired to heal him.

She stepped closer to him, pressed her hands against his back, and fixed her gaze on one of the wounds on his right shoulder. He took a deep breath, as though sensing what she was going to do. Her vision shifted out of focus, a hazy blur everywhere but the red hole. Her power rose, anticipating the taste of him. Closing her eyes the moment her lips touched his skin, she held the moan at bay and covered the wound with her mouth. She melted into him, her body flesh-to-flesh with his. The first touch of his blood on her tongue jolted her with the intensity of fifty thousand volts and she leaned into him, her reserve forgotten. She suckled slowly, savouring the taste of his blood and the way it went straight to her head and made her feel invincible. She had never tasted such sweet ambrosia but it came with a price. To heal the wounds, she needed to take a substantial amount of his blood. She would need Taig even more now. She didn’t have the strength to go cold turkey again. This drug was too addictive. He was too addictive.

With a lap of her tongue, she sealed the first wound and moved on to the next. Her power flowed through her into the bullet holes while his blood flowed into her. A fair exchange in her eyes. For an infinitesimal moment, she wished he would get hurt more often so she could heal him again.

When she had sealed the final wound, she leaned her forehead against his back, drowsy with the power coursing through her, elevated by his blood. She held his shoulders, breathing deep and slow.

“Did it hurt?” she whispered, desire stealing her voice. She hoped it hadn’t hurt too much.

“Like crazy,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned heavy, making it hard to breathe as she stood with her front pressed against his back and her arms draped around him. The shower cubicle felt tiny and confining. “But I swore to protect you.”

Lealandra drew away from him and looked at his back. The red welts were already disappearing. It was the first time he had allowed her to use her power to heal him, at least consciously. She still couldn’t understand why her power had healed Taig’s hand and why it had been close to making her heal him against her will just now. It had to be her heart, not her magic doing it. She was just confusing them.

She touched the wound on his marked shoulder. “I didn’t expect my payment to buy this level of protection.”

“It didn’t.” He hung his head forwards and she looked up at him, wishing she could see his face and read his feelings in it. “The oath I made six years ago did.”

A frown creased her brow. “Oath?”

She really wanted to see his face now.

“The night you left, I swore I would never let anything happen to you. Never. I mean to keep that oath, Lea. I don’t need your money or anything to make me protect you.”

Without a second thought, she moved around him and placed her hands on the hard muscles of his chest. She stared up at his face, feeling the full head’s worth of difference in their height without her shoes. His wet hair clung in black spikes to his forehead, drawing her attention down to the endless ebony depths of his eyes. The tenderness in them, the affection that glittered there, stole her breath.

He had placed himself in the path of danger to protect her and she believed that he wanted nothing in return—at least nothing but her heart, and that she was willing to give to him now. Her hands rose to cup his cheeks, fingertips grazing the curve of his jaw and his ears. His words had moved her like none before them.

She lured his head down at the same time as she tiptoed and heat exploded inside her when their lips touched. The light, soft kiss carried every meaning she put into it. It was a thank you, a confession and an invitation.