Shifting the Night Away (63 page)

Matthew had written her that note before he’d climbed aboard the quarantine bus. The day he’d spotted a sore on his skin, he hadn’t tried to hide it or flee from the authorities. He’d accepted his fate with more bravery and dignity than she’d ever witnessed.

If anyone deserved to be avenged, Matthew did.

His death hadn’t been an act of nature…but of demons. The monsters who’d unleashed the Plague God and the Red Death had to be stopped.

As a Lotus, Wen would have the opportunity to fight, to win.

And to kick those assholes back to
Dìyù
—Hell.

During her Lotus test, she’d screwed up. Li and the Matchmaker were correct to call her reckless. Curiosity had bitten her all right—in the ass. If she didn’t fight her way back into the League, she’d never honor Matthew’s memory. Warm moisture pooled in her eyes. She wiped the backs of her hands across her face and sniffed away the stinging tears.
Focus, girl.

The door of Li’s toy room opened for her entry and the lights switched on as she strode down the aisle, straight to the bracelet’s case. She pressed a button and the glass lowered. The fake inside vanished as the lasers that had projected its image flickered off. She placed the real one back inside and raised the glass once more. There. She certainly wasn’t going to keep a trinket she’d won through a kiss.

His
kiss.

Flushing at the memory, she skimmed one fingertip along her lower lip. Her eyes closed and she recalled Li’s taste. Decadent like dark chocolate. One taste had been overpowering and addictive.

A rattle broke her musings. She jerked around, but no one else was inside the chamber. Frowning, she strolled down the aisles and scanned for company. Li probably would announce his presence, right? Maybe another servant?

Unless…the noise had come from one of these artifacts. Quite possible for them to be enchanted. Shaking off the creepy sensation crawling down her spine, she stilled to listen for the noise again.

Clink.

She spun toward the back of the chamber. Padding forward, she squinted at each of the objects. China vases, bronze weapons, parchment scrolls. An assortment of treasures to rival any museum.

She pressed forward, toward the end of the row, and paused at the last case. Tilting her head, she studied the jade box inside. The small, square box was unadorned save for the gilded lock on one side. Darn. She’d bet the key was on a certain immortal’s body, and she’d already used her trick once on him.

He wouldn’t fall for it twice.

As she pressed her nose to the glass, the box emitted a low hum. Intrigued, she reached for the button to depress the glass.

“Do not touch that box.”

Wen jumped back, her heart ramming into her throat. Exhaling and trying to catch in a breath, she twisted around.
Li.

How in the hell had she not detected him? “You scared me.” Darn immortals.

“Good.” His gaze fixed on her. Dark, impenetrable eyes. He was wearing a modern suit today, the cut accentuating his broad shoulders and all around yummy physique. The one she’d ogled and fondled last night. His long hair was tied back at his nape with a leather thong, making him appear both cultivated, and savage.

“Why not? It’s just a box.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Tell that to Pandora.”

Wait, what? “That’s Pandora’s box?” She peered closer at the object.

“Hardly.” He scoffed. “Things are kept in boxes for reasons, Wen. Don’t go unleashing them.”

“Oh.” Right, made sense. Still, whatever was in the box had to be powerful. Its call tingled along her skin. She wanted to open the box, even if her brain told her doing so was a very bad idea.

“You don’t like my gift?”

“Huh?” She blinked once. Oh, the bracelet. “Not really a jewelry kind of girl.”

He took one step forward, his long stride bringing them close. “What kind of girl are you?”

The deep timber of his accented voice sent ripples down her spine, shooting pings of anticipation into her core. She moistened her lips. No doubt about it, she longed to taste him again. To feel his hard body pressed against hers. “The kind who earned herself a promotion?”

He shook his head and eased back. “Why do you wish to be a thief,
hmm
? Surely, there are better occupations for someone with your clever wit?”

“Is that meant to be a compliment? Or a reprimand?”

“A little of both.”

She smiled at him and tapped her nails along the top of the counter beside the case with the jade box. “You call me a thief, but that’s not what I am.”

“Then what are you?”

She took a step back as he claimed one forward. The lip of the counter behind her pressed into her back. He moved as though he was stalking her. Prowling, circling, testing.

This was her chance to plead her case. “When the Red Death hit, I lost my brother.” She paused, waiting for his soft murmur of condolence, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he’d gone hard again, like a statue morphing from fluid to stone.

“You asked what I am. I’m a fighter.”

His lips pressed thin. “There is nothing for you to fight here. Get back to dusting.” He spun on his heel and stormed from the room.

Four

The shame squeezed the air from his lungs. Bent over, Li struggled to rasp in a breath. A tremor seized his body, the spasms traveling down his arms and through his hands. He lifted his head and caught a glimpse of what he’d done in the gilded mirror hanging in the corridor. Though he’d give everything to view the haggard beggar, a handsome, robust male scowled back at him. Every damn day, his reflection tormented him. The price of his vanity…had been the world.

The gods sent Wen to him, so he would never, not for one instant, be able to ignore his disgrace.

Her brother.
Fisting his hand, he lunged forward and slammed it into the mirror, punching a hole straight through the marble behind it. He pulled his hand back, coated in dust, and flexed his fingers. No pain radiated through his body. The gift had once been a blessing, but now it was a curse.

He experienced no discomfort, while so many in the world suffered torment. Loss. Death—the Red Death. A plague that had decimated a third of the population in each major city it struck. Most of the Western world had fallen victim, while the governments in Asia struggled to keep the disease from crossing their borders. What they didn’t realize was the plague would continue to spread until those who had freed the Plague God to wreak this havoc were stopped. That burdensome task fell upon the Chosen—twelve human hosts of the spirit animals of the Chinese Zodiac.

It wasn’t Li’s place to prevent this horror, but with his gift, he might have saved hundreds or thousands of lives. Just as he had during the numerous times the Plague God had been unleashed—the Bubonic Plague, the Black Death, and countless other pandemics. He recalled them all, had aided the victims of each. Except for the Red Death. He ought to be glad the gods had sent him Wen. He didn’t deserve to ever forget.

“Whoa.” A clack of footsteps halted in the corridor behind him. Wen.

He dropped his head. Yep, definitely sent to torment him. Although, her persistence bore more semblance to the Matchmaker than any god he knew.

“Feel better? ’Cause punching stuff usually makes me feel better.”

He twisted around. She observed him with those keen cat-like eyes, hands perched on her hips.

“What do you want?” Perhaps if he were belligerent more and kissed her less, he’d find some peace.

“Actually, the question is, what do
you
want?” She tilted her head, her dark, red-streaked hair falling to the side. He fisted his hand to stop the urge to run his fingers through those silken locks.

“Oh come on.” She flashed him a bright smile. “You must wish for something, right? Another box? A talisman perhaps?” Her gaze meandered along his body, heating his flesh. “Aren’t you supposed to have a crutch?” She scrunched her nose. “Did someone take it?”

“What? No.” He scowled. She played with him with far too much familiarity. “I desire nothing, and I won’t be needing your services.”

She sauntered forward, swaying her hips in an enticing fashion. He swallowed hard as she neared and her scent, like peach nectar, taunted his nostrils. “Why don’t I believe you?” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and lowered her voice to a murmur. “I’m discreet. I promise, no matter what it is, my lips are sealed.” Her warm palms slid along the lapels of his jacket.

Damn, why did he let her? Every time she touched him, it was as though she worked a spell on him, leaving him incapable of pulling back.

Her offer seduced him. It shouldn’t have, but it did. As though it would be simple to reverse this. Sure, he could ask Wen to waltz into another immortal’s lair and steal a healing elixir, but their collections were as guarded as his.

No soul, mortal or immortal, no being, earthly or supernatural, would make it out undetected. Or in one piece. Besides, it wouldn’t fix his problem. He refused to allow the spark of hope of Wen’s thiefly success blind him to the risk of sending her into danger.

He’d vowed never to succumb to temptation again.

Even if she danced in front of him with sparkling green eyes.

He glanced down at those fucking succulent lips and his will disintegrated. “Would they be, though? Those pretty lips.
Hmm?
” He bent forward and nipped at her silken flesh. As he glided his tongue along the seam, she parted her mouth, flicking her tongue out to greet his.

She sucked on his bottom lip and gave him a sharp bite. “Yes, they would.”

Temptress. He resisted the reciprocal smile tugging at his mouth. “This is serious. You may have played thief in the Matchmaker’s sandbox, but you don’t know what the gods are capable of.”

“Sandbox?” She laughed. “Is that what you think her training program is like, because believe me, it’s not child’s play.”

“Is that why you failed?” He cocked a brow.

She pursed her lips. “There were…circumstances.”

“Like what?” he coaxed, but she didn’t answer him. “Oh, I see. You demand answers from me, yet you’re not willing to disclose your résumé?”

“Okay, fine.” A puff escaped her lips. “I made a mistake. One I won’t make again.”

“That’s all?”

A shrug. “Yep. That’s it.”

Yet, his gut told him it wasn’t. There was definitely more.

“Let me prove myself to you, and the Matchmaker might give me another chance at becoming a Lotus.”

“This is what you wish?”

“With all my heart.” She tilted her chin up, conviction sparking in her eyes.

“Why? How did she recruit you, bring you into this,” he swept his arm out, “world—the world of the Jade Emperor?”

“My grandmother was Chinese. She raised me…and my brother.” Pain flashed in her eyes for a moment but she blinked it away. “Every night, she told us stories about the myths, but it wasn’t until the Matchmaker showed up on my doorstep that I believed them. Who knew you were real, eh?” She winked and gave his arm a playful shove.

He caught her wrist and extended his fingers to stretch her palm to his. Her hand was small and fragile. Like the bubble of hope she carried. But she didn’t realize…no dreams blossomed in this place. “I doubt the Matchmaker will permit you this chance. In my experience, she doesn’t send servants here lightly.”

The rosy hue drained from her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“You asked if I kept them here, like prisoners.” He dropped her hand and flexed his fist. “I don’t. They’re here because there’s nowhere else for them to be. They’re outcasts. Like you and me.”

“Oh.” Vulnerability flickered in her eyes as though he’d peeled back the cloak of bravado she wore like armor.

Outcasts.
He almost wished to swallow back his words, but this was for the best. The quicker she accepted her fate, the sooner she’d let him be.

“Well, they’re not as persistent as I am.” She leaned forward and her fingers drew a lazy line down his chest. Damn, she’d bounced back. “Tell me how I can convince you I can do this.”

He seized her wrist and plucked off her hand. “No. That is my answer.”

“No? Why not?”