Demon Night (50 page)

 

Sure enough, Charlie had un-mixed them—but after a couple of hours holding her sleeping form, it became abundantly clear that she was also putting them back together. And the configuration wasn't all that different; the only things she left out were what created the most powerful need in both of them: the blood and the bed.

That was, the most powerful need aside from simply being with her—that one, which was the most critical, she'd never denied him or herself. And he'd get the others back as soon as he figured her out.

Ethan had to force himself to leave mid-morning. She smelled of apples and cocoa butter, and nothing looked as bright or felt so good as when she was close.

But he hadn't been able to drift. Her longing poured from her so hard he thought he could almost hear it, and his own need to provide whatever she was missing had been roaring deep within him.

It tempted him to push again, but that longing had appeared just after the first time he'd pushed her. He didn't know if he could withstand her need becoming worse.

And he didn't know what he feared more: her need becoming worse or him becoming too fuzzy to figure it out.

The ache in him didn't ease as the day wore on; he was only thinking of returning to Seattle. Wasn't thinking much at all, until Lilith tracked him down in the gymnasium, where he was overseeing the lack of progress Jake made attempting to use his Gift.

“Would you like Sir Pup to chase him, give him a good scare?” Lilith said, coming to stand beside Ethan.

“Maybe in thirty minutes,” he replied.
Or five,
he signed when Jake wasn't looking. Lilith grinned, and Ethan added, “You got that info on Legion setting up a training facility in Seattle?”

“Yes.”

He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “It might all be lies, but I figure it wouldn't harm nothing if I were relocated to Seattle semipermanently. Particularly during the evening hours. I'm familiar with the city, and I don't have to worry much about Sammael—who, at least for now, is still the high-ranked demon at Legion. Add to that, there's a vampire who's valuable to us, but who hasn't much by way of protection.”

Lilith's brows arched. “You should have just skipped to the last reason.”

“I reckoned I ought to lay out as many as possible.”

“Unfortunately, I've got one to add,” she said. “We've heard from a vampire community in New York, and another in Paris. We were too specific, trying to find a match to Brandt's method of killing them. He was angry; the others were just methodical.”

Ethan studied her face, couldn't read much in it. “So there were vampires being murdered, just not turned upside down and bled out?”

“Yes. The community leaders in Rome, Berlin, and D.C. were all killed several months prior to the city-wide slaughter. And those who took their place were soon dead as well.”

Just like Katya and Vladimir—and Manny. And because they hadn't known to look for the nephilim, they'd just assumed it was the usual vampire politics. “Seattle was next then.”

Lilith nodded. “Perhaps that will change, now that Brandt has been killed.”

“But we've no way of knowing if another of the nephilim won't just take up where he left off.”

“Yes,” she said. “And so we're alerting all of the communities, and we'll be assigning a Guardian to any city where the heads have been slain. Do you want Seattle?”

There was no way in hell he'd let anyone else take it. “That I do.”

“Then it's yours. When Michael returns—again—I'll clear it with him, but I can't imagine he'll disagree.” She crossed her arms, a tiny line appearing between her brows as she watched Jake concentrate, as the thrum of his Gift pushed through the room, and he still didn't get anywhere. She made a signal, and Sir Pup took off running. “Does everything have to be dragged out of you?”

Ethan nodded in satisfaction when Jake disappeared an instant before Sir Pup chomped down on his ass, then he turned to Lilith. “By that, I take it you've heard about my jaunt to Hell, and you're wondering what happened there.”

“I know what happened: You opened the nephilim's prison, and Michael killed the only one left inside. What interests me is the little twitch at the side of your neck when I say Michael's name.”

Ethan stared down at her, trying to figure if she was lying about the tell and just fishing, or if he really had given something away. When she bent to rub her hellhound's heads, telling him what a good boy he was for scaring the puppy, Ethan decided that it didn't matter.

“I may have heard something regarding Michael that gives me concern,” he said finally. “But I'm thinking it over, wondering if that ain't exactly what the one who said it intended.”

Lilith's expression was suddenly serious. “A demon?”

“Yes. But if what he said is true, I reckon it only means that I jumped to conclusions about Michael.” When her mouth turned down in confusion, Ethan explained, “I always figured he possessed some innate goodness and some natural ability to forgive. After all, he chose a man with my history to become a Guardian—”

“And never killed me,” Lilith murmured.

Ethan nodded. “But now I'm thinking that goodness might be something he picked up along the way.”

“So he wasn't born with that stick up his ass, but deliberately shoved it up there. That's wonderfully twisted,” Lilith said. She then added over Ethan's laughter, “Colin tells me you offered to transform several thousand dollars into several million. How was a man of your history planning to do that?”

“Vegas,” Ethan said. “Lots of poker tables, very few demons.” There was far too much wagering going on for their comfort.

Her eyes brightened with interest. “Would you have cheated?”

He considered that. It would have been so Charlie would have a home she loved, and there wasn't much he wouldn't do to provide for her.

Not much he wouldn't do, except push her so hard it frightened her away. But maybe a little push wouldn't hurt—and if it didn't work, he could come up with another way.

“Only if I started losing,” he finally said.

 

Ethan came in late again, and the knot in Charlie's stomach slowly began to relax. He'd left almost immediately after dropping her off at the lake house the night before. And although she knew by the faint scent in the sheets and the impression on the pillow next to her that he'd spent part of the morning in bed, she had no memory of his presence there.

A few minutes a day with him just wasn't enough. But this was what she'd dealt herself and forced on him, so she'd suck it up until they worked through it.

He sat, but waved away the bottle before she could pour his whiskey, and clasped each of her hands in his.

“Is it marriage?” he asked quietly. “I'll stand up with you.”

Charlie's heart swelled, huge and full in her chest. “No. You called us partners once; that was enough for me.”

“Hell and damnation.” He blew out a long breath. “I thought for sure that'd be it.” His head tilted as he studied her, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Is it something kinky? We've done everything you showed me that once, but maybe there's something you hid. Something real dirty.”

“No,” she tried to say, but she was choking on her laughter.

His voice roughened. “Maybe you have a fantasy, climbing up here on this bar, sitting right in front of me with all these people about. And maybe I'd push up your skirt, and I'd just lean forward and drink from you, long and deep, until you was crying for me to feed you in turn—”

“Oh, Jesus.” Her grip tightened on his. He couldn't send her images, but the picture he'd created in her mind was just as clear. “You're cheating.”

“No,” he said, his tone suddenly grim. “I just ain't playing fair. Because being with you like this is real good, Miss Charlie, but I miss being
with
you something fierce.”

“I do, too. But, Ethan, I know myself too well. If I ask, I won't stop needing it.” Just the thought brought the knot back to her stomach, heavy and taut.

“All right, then.” He withdrew his hands, and she closed her eyes, fighting back the need to grab hold of him. The familiar click of plastic against the counter had her opening them again, and she stared down at a tiny picture of herself. “Savi sent this up with me,” Ethan said. “Your driver's license, as requested.”

She said something that might have been a thanks, and slid the ID into her apron pocket.

Ethan seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before he added, “And I've got something for you as well, but it's a mite too big to give you here.”

She wanted to laugh, to make a joke—so that he'd blush; so that he'd tell her to hush—but that tiny hesitation had her trying to read his inscrutable expression, instead. “What is it?” she asked warily.

An envelope appeared on the counter, and she opened it, her brow creasing. “A title for a car?”

He gave a slow nod. “So as you won't have to rely on anyone to get around.” His fingers clenched slightly. “Particularly me. Until I have you figured, leastwise.”

“Oh.” She stared at the papers, her chest aching. The few minutes per day suddenly seemed to shrink into nothing.
Suck it up.
“Okay. Thank you.”

His mouth thinned. “You'll have to arrange for insurance before you can drive it, however—so I'll still be taking you home tonight.”

Relief swept through her. God, she should just end this. Should just live with him, even if it meant continually fighting the need to ask him, no matter how powerful it grew. But she'd never had a need this great; she didn't know if she could be that strong.

She was still debating when he set her down in front of the lake house, and the car appeared in her drive. She barely looked at it, but studied his face. She'd seen the expression that flitted across his features once before—that of a man telling himself he shouldn't be doing something, but not quite convincing himself of it yet.

And she felt just as uncertain, but not of one thing: She wasn't ready for him to go. “Do you feel like coming in for a while?”

He met her eyes. “If I'm that close for that long, it might lead to kissing you.”

“I'm willing to take that risk.” She tried on a smile, but it faded when he turned away from her. “Ethan?”

“I ain't willing to take that risk, Charlie,” he said, striding toward the front entrance. “Because kissing would lead to the bed, and then I'd push at you until you were biting me, and we'd be all mixed up again.”

“No.” She followed him through, shut the door behind her, then had to catch up with him. He was making a beeline toward the deck. “If that happened, it wouldn't be about feeding, or providing. Only how much I need you and love you.”

And that's what he'd bring to it, too. It would be mutual, equal—giving and taking, and nothing that would be for one more than the other.

He halted at the edge of the sunken living room, swung around to face her. The moonlight through the French doors shone on the stone clench of his jaw. “Well, you've got me completely confounded, Charlie. Because that's what you told me when we were all mixed up.”

Yes. She'd told him that she needed him, loved him.

“And you told me that you'd provide for me.”

“You think I ain't trying? If you'd just ask for what it is you're needing so bad, I could give it to you, but you just…you just…” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Even if I took you to bed, I'd lay down money that you wouldn't ask me to stay until dawn.”

“No,” she whispered. Her heart was beating a sick, painful thud, and her chest felt as fragile as blown glass. “But I wouldn't ask you to leave, either.”

Ethan closed his eyes. “I just wouldn't be man enough to stay. Going now will hurt something terrible. But it won't be anything like being with you through the night, as close as two people could possibly get, then watching you choose someone else's blood tomorrow—even though I'd crawl across Hell to give mine to you.”

Oh, God. She hadn't even considered…“I wasn't thinking of tomorrow.” Only that she wanted him with her so badly now, for any amount of time, any way she could get him. Her voice was raw, thick. “And I don't mean to make this worse. I'm sorry.”

She was just going to have to drop this. Just wait for him, and keep fighting the need inside her, as she should have from the start—

“Are you sorry? Because every day I have to walk away from you, it'll get worse, and I ain't getting any closer to figuring you. So I'm thinking this hurting will only stop one of two ways.” His chest rose and fell heavily. “You ask me for what it is you're needing, Charlie, and we'll head on up to that bed together. You keep quiet, and I'll go—and when I fly off that deck I won't be coming back, so as I won't be having to walk away again.”