Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion) (20 page)

It was true; there was a huge skylight that ran throughout the main room in my apartment, another in my bedroom, and a smaller one in the bathroom, but I had painted over all the glass with black shortly after I moved in. I failed to see what that had to do with what we were talking about, though.

“Don’t change the subject,” I said.

He ignored me and gestured upward. “Why did you get an apartment with skylights if you can’t be in sunlight?”

I bit back the urge to smack him. “Because I like having twenty-foot ceilings. Please tell me there’s a point to this.”

Blue eyes shifted back to mine, dark smoke swirling in their centers, drawing me in. “So you haven’t seen the sun in three hundred years?”

Electricity danced along my skin, nerves hyperaware. I’d never admit it, but the magic freaked me out—I wasn’t used to someone stronger than me, better than me. I could kick his ass, sure, but he could fucking
stop time
. And a strange little thrill went through me when I felt the shift in the air, saw the haze over his eyes, and sensed a magical storm about to hit.

I swallowed dryly and pushed a snarky tone back into my voice, hoping he couldn’t tell precisely what effect he had on me. “Duh. What’s your—”

My lips snapped shut as he muttered words I couldn’t make out. The lights in the room went out, leaving us in darkness.

Um...what the hell?

A weak glow appeared to the upper left of me, on the wall by the windows. I gazed up and watched as the light burned brighter and brighter.

Jesus,
he’s
going
to
burn
me
alive...
“Um...Nate?”

First the rounded edge of a fiery orange sphere peeked around from behind some unseen obstacle, then gradually it grew. My body tensed, ready to run, waiting for the hot burn on my skin, the agony pouring through me.

It didn’t happen. The sun stretched across the apartment ceiling until it illuminated the entire room, bathing us both in light. My bare skin warmed in the sunlight, my hair and dark clothes burned.

It was beautiful. So many years and I hadn’t really thought about the sun, hadn’t wondered about what I was missing. When I lived, the sun made for long days in the garden, harsh on skin and bearer of headaches in the summer. But this...this was glorious.

I closed my eyes for a moment, drinking in the heat and savoring the feeling. When I opened them again, Nate was watching me. I didn’t know whether it was the faux sunlight radiating from his taut skin, or perhaps that he had created the sunlight itself, but I was suddenly very aware of him—his breathing, his heartbeat, and the hot blood coursing through him. And in the light, he was gorgeous.

Too soon the sun had passed to the other side of the apartment and it perished behind another nonexistent horizon. As the last beams faded, part of me seemed to darken with it.

Moments later, Nate switched a couple of the lamps back on with a few magical words.

Holy fuck
. I let out a breath—a very human gesture, I realized, but one I felt compelled to engage in anyway. “Well.”

“Well?”

I gave him a grin. “Is that all you can do?”

“No, but I was hoping it would leave you speechless for a while.” He gave me a sexy half-grin—a real, genuine smile with no
boohoo I’m a brooding widow
shadows behind it. “I guess I was mistaken.”

“There’s a much easier way to get me to stop talking.” I shifted, pulled myself in to a crouch, pressed my palms to the floor, and crawled the short distance to him. Already the guards were back up—smile gone, back stiff, but I’d be damned if I’d give up without a seductive fight.

He didn’t respond, which, though infuriating, was also mildly arousing. No better way to drive someone insane than to show absolutely no interest.

I wanted him. Wanted him in a way that made my chest ache. Because he was betrayed and damaged under all the guards he put up, because he just created a freakin’
sun
knowing I hadn’t seen it in centuries, because I wanted to spend the next year unwrapping all his layers to see exactly what kind of man awaited me on the inside.

The intensity of that want scared me; I nearly hightailed it out of there just to escape it. But I’d never failed at seduction before and maybe if I got him out of my system—maybe if I confronted all that want—it would lessen a bit and I’d feel less terrified.

I tried a casual smile. “C’mon...you’re pretty. I’m pretty. We could be pretty together.”

“My wife was murdered two nights ago—”

Oh god, more brooding. “Yeah, after trying to kill you. Time to move on. Or...” I moved my lips to his throat and tasting his skin in a kiss. “...I could just bite you.”

His pulse quickened beneath my lips. Fear or lust? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I really don’t need your permission.”

“Well, you won’t be getting it, either.” Still, he didn’t move. Not to push me away, and not to take me in his arms either. Frozen solid, watching me. Weirdo.

I was close enough to taste his lips, his breath warm on my face; my gaze drifted up again to meet his eyes, voice went low and husky. “I’ve been around a long, long time, and I’ve invented positions you couldn’t dream of. I can take you right here hard and fast, sweet and slow, ride you to exhaustion until you’re empty but craving more, and then do it all again.”

His blood was rushing south—I could feel it, heat searing, burning in him. He leaned closer, eyes leveled at me, mouth nearly brushing mine. “And I could take you to the edge and keep you there for hours, quivering near madness,
begging
me to release you—and that’s even without bringing magic into it. But that will never happen.
Ever
.”

I swallowed. Hard. Tried not to let it sting. “’Cause I’m not blonde?”

“Because you’re self-absorbed, arrogant, childish, and I’m
not
interested.”

A flush infused my cheeks—real, genuine hurt, rejection feeling like a slap across my face. I swallowed dryly and fought to pick up my shattered pride.

But I could fake it. Pretend it didn’t bother me—that I didn’t take the whole thing too seriously. I pulled back to sit on my heels and pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“My apologies,” he said without smiling.

I rolled my eyes. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.” I stood and started for my room. “Whatever,” I called. “I’m going to bed. If you decide to stop being a killjoy, you’re welcome to join me.” I glanced back at him just as I stopped in my doorway, but he made no move to rise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Home Invasion

Blood was thick and hot, seeping through the floorboards.

And I stood in the middle of it.

The stench of loosened bowels and stomach acid thickened the air. Ripped entrails spilled over the ground at my feet, the last of a dying man’s gasps filled my ears. For a glorious moment, rage had climaxed and I felt nothing but righteous glee. But the high didn’t last.

Now I was alone and terrified...

The sound of breaking glass startled me awake.

My eyelids flew open. Met a bright, harsh light that blinded. One of my hands shot out to shield my face—

Skin burned.

I shrieked before I could stop myself, pain—god,
the pain
—zigzagging through my body.

Oh fuck no,
the
skylights
...

I rolled off the bed onto the floor, then rolled
under
the bed, forcing the pain of the broken glass on my blistering skin to the back of my mind. How the fuck was I going to get out?

“Zara!” Nate shouted from the other room. Crashing relief filled me and I nearly cried as a weight seemed to lift. I wasn’t alone.
Not
alone.

More glass shattered. I saw little from my vantage point under the bed, but heavy dark curtains hit the hardwood floor, followed by three pairs of feet in combat boots.

Shit.

Gunfire tore through the room. The three figures fell to the floor, sunlight glistening off the blood oozing from bullet-riddled chests and faces.

I saw Nate duck down in my bedroom doorway, gun in hand.

“Are you all right?”

Good to know he wasn’t going to leave me to die for hitting on him the night before. “Well, I’m seriously considering getting a basement apartment.” I glanced at my body. Foolishly, I had chosen to sleep in a tank top and thong. Comfortable? Yes. Practical for keeping out of the sun? A resounding “no.” “Now, how about some clothes?”

He grabbed the pair of jeans I had tossed atop the laundry hamper the night before and handed them to me.

I slipped on the pants, dragging the harsh material over the tender spots of burnt flesh—a sheet had covered most of my legs, so little sun reached them, but enough was burned that a yelp left my lips. There was possibly no worse pain than second degree burns. “Okay, and can we maybe get me out of here without toasting the rest of my flesh?”

When he seemed certain no one else would be leaping into the room, he cleared the distance to the window in a few long strides. He yanked the long, heavy curtain from the rod and threw part of it over the edge of the bed.

“That should shield you—”

Just as I was getting out from under the bed, something crashed outside of the bedroom. Feet thumped on the floor, how many I couldn’t say. Without waiting for me to completely stand, Nate wrapped the rest of the curtain around me tightly, lifted me up, and started carrying me from the room.

I hated that feeling of being unable to do anything. By all rights
I
should be the one kicking some home-invader-ass. But with the skylights smashed, and people breaking open all my windows, I was vulnerable. It still pissed me off, though. When the opportunity arose later to personally deal with whoever sent the bastards, I would certainly make my feelings known—known in that special, violent way I was so good at.

Nate fired a few more shots, then the elevator door groaned. Once inside, he put me down so he could shoot at a few more people, then there was a metal-on-metal screech as the door closed and I felt the sensation of movement.

“They just keep coming,” Nate said. “Waves of them.”

“Why the hell didn’t you just teleport us?”

A heavy sigh I heard even with the fucking curtain around me. “
Someone
disrupted the sigils in the garage. I need a marker.”

Oh, right. My bad. “So where to?”

“How about Heaven’s? No windows.”

“Sounds delightful.”

The elevator gave a shudder as it reached the bottom floor, and moments later I was being helped through the underground parking garage.

“Damn, my keys were upstairs,” I reminded him as we stopped at what was presumably my car.

He didn’t respond—instead I heard glass breaking.

Oh no.
No
. “Was that my car window?”

In answer, he picked me up and laid me on my back inside the vehicle.

“Nate!” I struggled to sit up and get situated while wrapped in yards of fabric still. “Goddamn it, what are you doing now?”

“I’m trying to hotwire your car,” he replied calmly. “Though it’s increasingly difficult with you yelling at me.”

More gunfire sounded. Shattered glass from the rear window hit me. I suppose that meant our pursuers found us. Great.

Finally he had the car running and it squealed out of the parking spot, thrusting me headfirst into the side door.

“Ow—watch it!” I tried again to sit; this time a hand shoved my head back down again.

“Stay down!” Nate ordered as more bullets tore up the rest of my car. Some close-range firing from him followed, and I was tossed around the backseat, eventually landing on the floor. I was stuck there, forced to wait as he swerved through the parking lot while shooting at our assailants. I’d had enough of the searing and blinding pain from my multiple burns bringing tears to my eyes. Not the most enjoyable way to wake up in the morning. Or afternoon. Truth be told, I hadn’t the slightest idea about what time it was, but knowing the hour wasn’t a top priority.

At last we seemed to hit a smooth stretch of road, and the gunfire ceased. I tried to manoeuvre back onto the seat, but only managed to entwine myself further in the curtain.

“Are we there yet?”

“I’m on the phone.” Nate sounded slightly irritated, though it was difficult to tell through the scream of wind rushing through the window-less car.

“That was Peter,” he shouted over the wind a while later. “He called just when the skylights broke—had to ring him back. He seems to know something, but he didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.”

“He can’t meet us today?”

“I thought we should give it a day for everything to cool down first. Peter will come through, though.”

“Great,” I muttered, more to myself than him. After much struggling, I finally pulled myself onto the backseat. “So are we there yet?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Enemy of My Enemy

It took awhile, but at last one of my
Are-we-there-yet’s
was answered with an exasperated “Yes!” That should teach Nate to stuff me in the backseat while he had the pleasure of gun fighting and speeding.

Unfortunately, I had to tolerate being carried into the hotel and down the stairs to where Heaven turned out to be looking less than pleased to see us.

“What’s going on?” she asked as Nate was helping me disentangle myself from the curtain. She appeared even more drained than the previous night and I suspected she still hadn’t slept. The ashtray remained the same, though a second had appeared on the coffee table and had a fresh layer of cigarette butts.

“Turns out I need a place to crash while mine is being unexpectedly renovated.” I shuddered in the air-conditioned basement as cool air struck my blistered skin.