Beauty's Beasts (7 page)

She flinched at the mention of her mother’s name. “Did you ever fuck her?” she demanded.

He drew in a breath, a sharp one. “No,” he said quickly. “I was with Nicholas then. Once she met Carson, there was room for no one else. She saw no one else. They were obsessed about each other.” He dropped his head, staring at his hands where they lay palm up on the concrete edging of the balcony. “They were only together for six years before Carson was killed by Lirgon, but those six years were lived so intensely…” He shook his head. “It was almost as if they knew they would not have long together and they squeezed as much as they could into the time they had. There was no room for anyone else, really. Just the small handful of friends they trusted with their lives and that was all.”

“The opposite of what you do, in fact,” Riley said dryly.

Damian grimaced. “I suppose…yes. Our race does become complacent about emotions. Time gives you that luxury.”

“That’s what you’re doing now,” Riley told him. “You’re avoiding me.”

He turned to face her, leaning back against the edge, spreading his arms along either side. He smiled. “Relentless, aren’t you?”

“When it’s important,” she agreed.

“Is it important, Riley?” His tone was cool.

Her heart jumped. “Don’t try to get around me that way.” She stood up. “If this was simply just sex, just passing time, then you wouldn’t be so put out about what happened back there.” She came toward him. “I’m not centuries old like you, Damian. But I’m not an idiot, either. Don’t treat me like one.”

His gaze never wavered. “I apologize,” he said evenly. “Such a simple tactic would work with a great many others. I’ve grown used to manipulating humans in such ways.”

“And you still haven’t answered my original question.” She stopped barely a foot away from him and looked him directly in the eye.

“Do you know,” he said softly, his gaze directly locked with hers, “that staring a vampire directly in the eye is the equivalent of challenging them? Most vampires find their feeding impulses kick in and have to subvert those impulses to other drives, if they wish to avoid killing the human who foolishly locks gazes with the vampire.”

“Other drives?” Riley echoed, keeping her eyes square upon Damian’s black pupils. His lashes were black, as were the thick brows.

“Sexual, often,” Damian murmured, his voice thickening perceptively. “But if the need to feed can’t be slaked via sex, then physical expenditure. Running. Fighting. Dismantling buildings.” His hands were gripping the edges of the concrete, and the knuckles were white.

Her heart squeezed in her chest and she was mortally aware of the blood pumping through it.

Damian’s eyes were unblinking. “Look away, Riley, if you do not want me to force you to yield to me
right now.
”

“Answer my question first,” she breathed, fighting to hide just how badly she was trembling.

He hissed out his breath. “Ask your question!”

“I hurt you by not fully trusting you enough to give up control and let go, didn’t I?”

Damian’s lips parted as his fangs partially lowered. His eyes closed. The sight terrified Riley but she remained totally silent, repressing every impulse to show any sign of fear, including the almost overwhelming need to reach for the knife hanging heavy and reassuring in her inside jacket pocket. She knew it would trigger Damian into action she couldn’t defend herself against. She didn’t have the skill yet and perhaps never would. He was too old, too experienced and far too strong—and she had pushed him, perhaps too far.

“That is it,” he whispered. His chest lifted as he drew a very deep breath and let it out, like a man smelling the air. Then, astonishingly, he smiled. “Yes,” he said firmly. “You wounded me when you would not give up control.” His smile grew wider. “My…what did you call it? My fragile male ego? It appears that even after all this time it is still remarkably delicate.” And he laughed.

Riley found her mouth lifting in a smile, even though she was puzzled. Damian’s laugh was infectious and his transformation from scary vampire to happy man was stunning and breath-robbing.

He curled his hand around the back of her neck. “I laugh, Riley, because it’s so ironic to find this vestige of humanity still lingers in me, and it’s such a pathetic one. Vanity, indeed. Pride. Ego. They’re not admirable qualities. Why, if human qualities were to linger, could they not be the better ones like courage, loyalty and…and…”

“Love?” Riley suggested softly.

Damian’s face shadowed. “I never lost that,” he said softly. “Love never goes away. It changes. It can become perverted, if you let it and some do. Some allow it to become the vilest emotion imaginable, as it twists between the creatures they become and the partners they associate with. But love never goes away completely.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “Is that one of your questions, Riley? What lies between us? Where this all leads?”

She jumped. She couldn’t help it. The question lay in her heart and mind, but she never would have asked it. “How can you possibly answer such a question now? It would be unfair to demand an answer.”

Damian’s mouth lifted at the corners. “To you, it may seem that way.” His hand at the back of her neck drew her closer as his other arm wrapped around her back. “I can see farther than you.” He pressed her against his chest, where she had once slept. “Relax,” he told her. “Nicholas will be here soon with food. Meantime, it’s nearly sunset. We must watch the skylights.”

Her face turned inward and she found her lips were a mere inch from his neck. This time, she gave into the same impulse she’d had when travelling to New York just that morning, she kissed his neck and slid her tongue over the flesh, tasting it.

Damian sighed. “Sweet.”

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to do that this morning, in the car.”

“I knew.”

She thumped his shoulder with the heel of her hand. “It’s just not fair, you being able to smell everything about me. It’s like being able to read my mind. You get advanced information about me and I get left behind about what’s going on with you two.”

His long finger lifted her chin so she was forced to look him in the eyes. “You do very well with just your own senses, Riley Carson Connors. You just skewered me very neatly. I’m still bleeding, thank you very much.” His lips touched hers in a soft kiss meant only to reassure. The kiss lingered, lengthened, but still didn’t do more than share warmth and empathy. She knew Damian was carefully not arousing her—the gargoyles were about to rise. They could not afford to be distracted, even though she sensed that he longed to have her to submit to him, to make her let go completely and fully in the most comprehensive way possible, as soon as possible.

Very soon the confrontation between her control and his ego would come. But for now, he was content to let her keep control. His tongue brushed her upper lip and lifted away. “Don’t feel inadequate with us two,” he told her.

She smiled up at him. “I won’t.”

Damian jerked his head up, like he’d heard a loud noise, or been alerted by something. “Nicholas,” he said, his hand falling away from Riley’s face.

Riley turned in Damian’s arm.

Nicholas was three or four paces beyond the roof entrance door, a grocery bag in one hand that glowed ghostly white in the gloaming. He was standing very still, where he had come to a halt on the rooftop. He had moved almost silently, so that only Damian had heard him.

Nicholas’ face was painted with shock, the blue eyes wide. As soon as Riley turned and saw him, though, Nicholas shook himself and strode forward, swinging the grocery bag in her direction. “Food for the weak one,” he said, dropping it at her feet.

Riley pulled away from Damian, even though his arm stayed around her. He was not hiding from Nicholas in any way. She stepped away from Damian, letting his arm drop.

“You two reek of sex,” Nicholas said sharply. “Couldn’t you have at least showered instead of assaulting me with the stench all night?”

Riley sucked in her breath, shocked.

Damian shook his head. “That’s a cheap shot, Nick, and you know it. Feel better now you’ve hurt Riley and no one else?”

Nicholas shrugged. “I couldn’t give a tinker’s damn if the truth hurts,” he told Damian, heading for the edge of the rooftop. He was completely indifferent. “Riley isn’t here to be coddled. She can deal with it.” He leaned over the edge to peer down at the top of the gallery and the skylights below, where the lights from the gallery were radiating pure light in three big square white panels up into the night. “That’s it?”

Riley, leaning over the wide concrete lip on Damian’s other side, and saw Nick glance at her. He was not as indifferent as he wanted her to think. Was it her he was aiming his barbs at? Or Damian?

She pushed back from the edge and straightened up, her heart thundering. Games within games. Was she going to get hurt here because she wasn’t playing her own game? Because she didn’t have an agenda? She was the only short-lived creature on the playing field, caught between two centuries-old vampires who’d learned the art of strategy from fighting actual war campaigns that she’d only read about in books. Damian had already confessed he could see farther ahead than her. What if she was the pawn in this? The piece that could be easily sacrificed in order to promote another, stronger player?

She had to be smarter than this, didn’t she? Or should she just trust that love would win out?

No, don’t be stupid, Riley. Love is what romance heroines rely on. This is the real world.

In the real world, life wasn’t fair, the underdog didn’t always win, you got kicked when you were down, justice didn’t always rule and in no way, shape or form was it impartial. Above all, if she didn’t watch out for herself, no one else was going to.

Riley leaned over the ledge once more, copying the two vampires, to make it look like she was relaxed and hadn’t just had her teeth mentally kicked in for her.

She had to figure out what she wanted from these two, then plan how to go and get it. Damian was going to have to learn to live with disappointment, because she wasn’t going to give up control for him in the near future. No way. Not if this was the way they were going to play the game with her.

“There,” Damian murmured. “And there.”

“I see it,” Nicholas replied.

Both of them leaned motionless, watching the skylights.

Riley swallowed her fury and watched. Shadows were fluttering around the rim of the skylights. Large ones. Her heart began to pump hard.

Then large shadows stepped into the light below the panes, blocking it. She couldn’t see detail, because the light pouring from the skylight was the only illumination source nearby and night had fallen suddenly as they had waited on the roof.

The skylights lifted back on hinges almost soundlessly and six large shapes eased out. From having studied him so long that afternoon, Riley was able to pick out Lirgon from the shape of his wings and head. Seeing him move was fascinating, but she recalled Damian’s warning. These creatures had been the most deadly foe her parents had faced. Lirgon had killed both her parents in the end. She could not underestimate the creature no matter what he looked like, or how he moved.

The six hunched shapes paused around the edges of the skylights and closed them again. The wings—ugly, hooked, leathery things—unfurled and stretched out to dozens of feet across and flapped experimentally. Hisses and snarls floated up in the air. The whisper of language, but not words that Riley understood. Then the wings began to beat in earnest.

Damian’s hand caught her jacket and pulled her down into a crouch on the tarmac coating the rooftop, hugging the wall, just as he and Nicholas were doing.

The gargoyles rose in lazy flight into the air, wings lifting them in heavy, silent sweeps into the night air, almost vertically up over the rooftops as they searched the terrain with their excellent vision and even better sense of smell and hearing. Then, with a small circle in the air, they glided off toward mid-town Manhattan and Central Park. Where the hunting would be more congenial, Riley presumed.

Nicholas spread his long legs out on the tarmac. “Saint Peter on a fucking pony,” he said, resting his head back against the wall. “All six of them.”

Damian sighed. “This really is starting to get a little old.”

“
If
this is the same as last time. We’ll confirm it, then deal with it. Once and for all.”

“It’s unlikely to be anything else, Nick, you know that.” Damian sat up. “Why court a disaster just to be sure?”

Riley stood up and faced them both. “What the hell are you talking about? Either of you?”

Nicholas answered without hesitation. “The six gargoyles that just rose are the original six from the Stonebrood clan. The last six, which I and twelve demon hunters spent two weeks hunting and exterminating in 1873. In the end it cost us eight lives, but we did it because we knew if we did not, the rogue clan would continue to go on slaughtering humans for the joy of it for decades to come, for gargoyles are virtually immortal if their stone-sleep is secure enough. We accounted for every last gargoyle in the clan. That was the last clan, we thought. Gargoyles were wiped from existence and taken from the hunters’ lists.”

“Until 1977. Until my mother met my father,” Riley prompted.

“The
only
reason they returned to life was through supernatural means,” Damian told her. He lifted his arms to his knees and let his hands hang between them. “The demon Azazel that Nick had been hunting brought rock likenesses of the gargoyles to life—he channeled their life-force into the carvings using summoning charms. Azazel had more powers than Nick was aware of and we’ve always wondered if he really disintegrated the day Tally dealt with him, or merely departed and bided his time. Your mother hedged her bets. She made us swear to protect you if Azazel ever raised the clan again. She knew he would come after her offspring if he knew of you, for she was the one who transfigured him, the last time. He’ll be looking for vengeance, this time.”

Riley crossed her arms. “So despite seeing the six rise again, you still feel it is necessary to confirm that Azazel is behind this? Or is this some fancy form of procrastination?”