Valerian kicked off his jeans and stood up to full height, stark naked, his blond hair falling loose.
“Look out,” Adrian warned, and then Valerian changed.
Lizard man, Bryan the vampire had sneered at him. As Valerian’s body exploded into ten tons of scales, haunches, claws, and above all, a giant mouth with dozens of huge pointed teeth, Amber understood.
Not lizard. Dragon.
She had time to gasp before Adrian threw her to the ground and landed on top of her. A second later, Valerian blasted incandescent fire straight into the ice canopy above them.
The ice groaned and crackled, then it shattered. Several tons of water and ice cascaded to the alley below it, Adrian grunting as his body took the brunt of it. Amber groped for breath and got a mouthful of water instead.
The water pounded and roared down on them, then with a final deluge, it ceased. The air became dry again, the water gone.
Adrian was soaked to the skin with freezing water, his hair plastered to his scalp. He eased off Amber, and she hunched into a ball, shivering in the breeze coasting down the alley. Septimus wiped off his ruined suit with his hands, looking disgusted.
Valerian settled onto his haunches, lowering his great dragon head to stare at Adrian with enormous blue eyes. “Happy now?” he rumbled.
Adrian was looking upward, water beading on his lashes, scanning the sky above them. “He’s gone.”
“A circumstance devoutly to be wished,” Septimus said. He tried wringing out his cuffs, then gave up. “I don’t mind playing your games, Adrian, but letting an ancient demon wreak havoc in my club is a bit much.”
Adrian got to his feet, still looking upward. “I’ll pay the damages.”
Septimus opened his mouth to argue, but took a look at Adrian’s face and shut it again. He trudged back to the club, past the fearful spectators who’d peered out to watch the fight and its aftermath. “Start getting this wall sealed up,” Amber heard him say.
A creak of scales filled the alley as the dragon morphed back into Valerian, arms folding over his nude body. “What now?”
Adrian finally looked at them. His eyes were opaque black again, the sparks gone, the thoughts behind them obscured. “Valerian, get Amber home safely,” he said.
Without another word, Adrian strode off down the alley, heels crunching on dirt and gravel on its floor. Amber started to call out, but Valerian stopped her with a heavy hand.
“Best to leave him alone when he’s like that.”
Amber watched Adrian disappear into the darkness at the mouth of the alley. “I want to help him,” she said. “He saved my life.”
“I don’t know if you can help him.” Valerian sighed. “He’s the ultimate loner—there’s no one in the world exactly like him except the other Immortals, and you don’t see them around anywhere, do you? Now me, I like people. You need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me.”
Amber dragged her gaze from the darkness and choked back a shaky laugh. “You’re not exactly the boy next door. And could you put your clothes back on?”
“What?” Valerian looked down at himself, all six-foot and change of solid muscle. “Oh. I forget sometimes when I first shift back. Clothes seem unnatural.”
Amber averted her gaze while Valerian walked away to find his now wet jeans and shirt.
“My shapeshifter friend Sabina is like that, too,” Amber said while Valerian pulled on his clothes. “She grumbles when she has to re-dress herself.”
“Mmm.” She heard a soft zzz sound as Valerian zipped up his jeans. “I wouldn’t mind meeting her.”
“She’s a werewolf. She’s picky about who she takes up with.”
“Don’t think she’d like lizards?”
“I have no idea. It’s never come up.” As she talked Amber gathered her stones and rubbed out the now-sodden salt on the alley surface, resolutely trying not to think about Adrian and what he might be encountering out there in the city.
As she turned to go back into the club, her gaze fell on Bryan, who still lay unconscious on a pile of bricks.
“We should take him inside,” she said.
Valerian gave her an incredulous look. “What for?”
“If they forget him, and he’s still here when the sun comes up . . .”
“He’ll decompose.” Valerian shrugged. “Oh, well.”
“It’s not a fair way to die.”
Valerian scowled again, but moved to Bryan’s inert form and heaved him over his shoulder. “You’re a soft touch, witch.”
He carried Bryan back into the ruined room and Amber followed. In the club proper, the vampire staff was trying to come up with ways to wedge the door to the ruined room closed and seal it before the sun came up. LaChey pushed through the guards holding the crowd back and ran for Valerian, calling Bryan’s name.
Valerian dumped Bryan in another room just as the vampire was coming around. LaChey held Bryan’s hand and began crooning to him. Amber left them quickly. When Bryan woke up, hurt and groggy, he’d likely want to feed right away and not care much who he sank his teeth into or how hard.
They left the club, and Valerian took Amber back to Adrian’s house. He offered to stay, but Amber felt protected enough with Adrian’s magic, and the dragon-man looked tired from shifting and fighting.
After he departed, Amber went to the white guest room and lay awake on the bed waiting for Adrian to come back, but by sunrise, he hadn’t returned.
* * *
Manny, Kelly’s chef, came over again the next morning to cook breakfast. Kelly didn’t accompany him, because she wasn’t an early riser, Manny said, plus she had to rest up for an upcoming movie that would start shooting soon.
Amber ate the fantastic breakfast without tasting it then wandered the beach hoping to feel Adrian’s arms come around her as they had the afternoon before, but he didn’t appear. She refused to be worried. Adrian could take care of himself. He had more power than anything she’d ever encountered. Nothing much could stop him.
Except for one bad-ass demon who was tough to kill, who had nearly killed Amber more than once, and who had murdered Susan. Maybe Adrian’s demigod status made him un-killable, but he could always be hurt or ensorcelled, or trapped somewhere.
Now she was worrying.
She hoped Valerian would meet up with him, but that hope was dashed about noon when Valerian called to see if Adrian had come home. When Amber answered that she hadn’t seen him, Valerian treated her to a thoughtful silence. Then he said gruffly he’d keep an eye out for him and hung up.
Valerian was worried too. Crap.
Restless, Amber explored the house. The place was huge but didn’t have very many rooms. The living room took up the whole middle of the house, and the kitchen opened into its own wing in the front of the house. Two enormous bedrooms lay on either side of the living room, the two bathrooms each four times as large as the dorm room she’d shared with a friend in college.
She found a door in Adrian’s bedroom tucked behind the open bedroom door. Amber turned the doorknob, but the door wouldn’t budge. Locked.
Adrian’s bedroom looked much like the guest room Amber had been sleeping in—white, airy, large bed with white sheets and plump pillows. His bathroom contained nothing more personal than a razor left haphazardly on a shelf in the shower and a toothbrush on the vanity. Nothing of him.
Which made Amber very curious about the locked door. It wasn’t a closet. Adrian had a walk-in closet off the bathroom without many clothes in it—a few well-made suits, jeans, shirts both casual and dressy, motorcycle boots, expensive-looking shoes that looked like they didn’t get much wear. She assumed the cleaning service must extend to his closet, because the shoes were lined up neatly on shoe racks, and no man she’d ever known would bother to do that.
The door might lead to nothing more exciting than a water heater or a space under the house, but she had to know. Adrian’s own fault for leaving her here alone while she was worried and edgy.
Amber was a good enough witch to spell a lock, drawing a simple circle around the doorknob and speaking a word into the keyhole. The door opened, revealing a wooden staircase leading downward. Cautiously, Amber made her way downward, then her heart began to thump excitedly when she stepped off the last stair. She’d found something of Adrian’s at last.
Chapter Eleven
The room, paneled with rich wood, stretched the length of the house, the ceiling supported with dark beams. It looked much like an Old English hall, except instead of being filled with long tables of feasting warriors, glassed-in cabinets ran along the walls. A thick woven carpet covered the floor—a tapestry, Amber realized, used as an area rug. Part of the tapestry depicted a medieval-looking Adrian hefting a silver sword.
The glass cabinets held bits and pieces of the past. Amber wandered through, casting her gaze in wonder over a tattered surcoat, a pair of gauntlets, a topper from the Victorian era, calling cards with names she didn’t recognize, a lady’s fan, a pocket watch, a faded map of eastern America about the time of Elizabeth I, letters in Greek and Russian, an Egyptian scarab, and what looked like a Fabergé egg.
Things Adrian had collected and kept, things that must mean something to him. Amber wondered who’d been the lady who’d owned the fan, what the letters said, and where he’d come by the map.
The souvenirs were scattered haphazardly in the cases without a discernible organization, no sorting of trinkets by era or place. Just things Adrian liked, locked behind glass where he could look at them when he wanted.
Amber caught a flicker of movement in the far corner and swung around. Adrian was reclining in a chair in the shadows, his long legs stretched in front of him, hands resting limply on the chair’s arms.
“Goddess, Adrian.” Amber pressed her hand to her chest. “How long have you been down here?”
He sat without moving, not answering, not getting up to greet her. She walked slowly to him. As she neared him she saw he was bruised and battered, his face lined and stark, his shirt bloody from cuts.
“I don’t know.” The answer rasped from him. “I don’t even remember coming home.”
* * *
While Amber’s golden eyes widened in horror, Adrian reflected how glad he was to see her. When he’d found himself inside his house again, he’d hidden himself down here, alone, to recover. He’d found the demon and fought him, fought him and lost.
Adrian had followed the demon’s magic trail to the desert outside the city, using a Harley he liberated from one of Septimus’ patrons. When Adrian had found the demon, he’d let loose, fighting with every ounce of his strength, every flash of his deepest, wildest magic. Adrian had fought Old Ones before, and he knew how cunning, strong, and twisted they were. He knew what he had to do to best them.
But this one, he couldn’t beat. Not alone. He and the demon had battled hard, neither holding back, washes of magic flaring into the sky like the aurora borealis. Without having to worry about hurting Valerian, Amber, or even Septimus, Adrian had been able to give the fight all he had.
No human came to investigate—they either thought they saw heat lightning in the desert or realized it was supernatural and shied away. Sensible humans had learned not to mess too much with the paranormal.
Adrian had fought until he couldn’t feel his arms swinging his sword, until Ferrin’s blade was nicked and warped, until Adrian’s Immortal magic had weakened, and he’d fallen to his knees. Even then he’d grabbed the demon before he could flee and rained blows into his face, demanding that the demon take him to Tain.
He’d done plenty of damage to the demon, but the Old One proved to be stronger than Adrian ever could be. With a last blow that sent Adrian across the desert floor, the demon skimmed into the air, expanding his wings, and disappeared through a mist. Adrian couldn’t sense where the demon had gone or follow his trail anymore—he’d simply disappeared.
Adrian had gotten himself back to the city on the Harley, left the bike at the club, and walked home. He could make people avoid him if he wanted them to, and he wanted them to. He wanted to be alone to think and decide what to do. He’d lost track of time and miles as he’d walked, and had entered through the hidden basement door without registering he’d made it home.
Today was the closest he’d come to finding Tain in seven hundred years, and Adrian didn’t want to throw away this chance. But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t certain how to proceed.
He’d been happy to be alone, until he’d seen Amber step into his collection room and look with wondering eyes at the memories of his life. She’d gazed in fascination and near delight at treasures he’d never shown anyone else.
Amber knelt next to him now, resting gentle hands on his thigh, her hair sweet-smelling from a shower, scented with honey and aloe.
“What did he mean?” Adrian asked, half to himself. “When the demon showed us the ice, what did that mean? He was under your truth spell, so it wasn’t a ruse. But I’ve been across the globe a hundred times, and never found a sign of Tain.” He let out a breath. “I don’t know what it means.”
Amber caressed his knee. “Don’t worry. We’ll work on it. We’ll figure it out.”
Adrian wanted to laugh, and let a fierce chuckle escaped him. Her tawny eyes warmed him; her voice was so sincere, so matter-of-fact. Don’t worry . . . we’ll figure it out.
Such a contrast to her outrage when she’d turned on Adrian in the club, demanding to know what he meant when he said she belonged to him. So ardently independent, Amber knowing she was a weak human and defying the world to take issue with that.
Adrian couldn’t explain the joy it had given him to tell Septimus Amber was his, because no one had ever belonged to Adrian before.
Adrian slid his hand to Amber’s shoulder. Her skin was smooth, warm, while he felt cold and spent. She touched his face, her brows drawing together. “You’re hurt. You need help.”
“I heal quickly.” Already Adrian’s metabolism had closed most of the wounds except angry stripes from the demon’s talons when he’d had knocked Adrian flat the last time. “I’ll be fine.”
“Bet me.” Amber tugged his ruined shirt up and started pushing it from his body. Adrian assisted, lifting the tattered T-shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. Amber’s breath slid over his skin as she looked over his torn and bloody torso. “The demon did this to you?”
“The wounds will be healed in a few hours’ time.” Already the horrible sting had begun to fade.
“But he might have poisoned you. At least let me get my crystals.”
She started up, but Adrian seized her wrists in a bruising grip. “Not yet. Stay with me.”
“You need healing.”
“I need you.”
She wouldn’t understand, and Adrian couldn’t explain his overwhelming craving for her presence. He’d felt it coming on the moment he’d seen her crouched inside her magical circle in the warehouse. It had grown stronger every minute Adrian was with her, even when he knew he’d never be able to fulfill it.
“I need you,” Adrian said again.
“Come upstairs with me.” Amber whispered it against the corner of his mouth, giving him a brief kiss on an unbruised part of his cheek. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”
Adrian transferred his grip to her waist and pulled her up onto the chair with him. “Later.”
Amber looked down at him, her eyes unreadable. Adrian waited, his heart beating painfully. Any moment, she’d push away from him, tell him not to be stupid, to let her perform a few healing spells. He waited for the pain when she went, when she shook her head to his unspoken plea.
Amber’s eyes softened. She leaned forward, resting her hands on his shoulders.
Adrian shook, holding himself back from grabbing her and never letting her go. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he could. He was powerful, immortal, and Amber was fragile. He could break her so easily.
Amber kissed his lips. Her touch was tender, opening up hurts i
nside him Adrian didn’t know he had.
Adrian returned the kiss slowly, exploring her mouth, then he fastened his lips around her tongue and suckled it. She made a noise of pleasure in her throat, one that threatened to push him beyond his control.
Amber ran her hands down Adrian’s bare torso. He suspected she was taking stock of his wounds, but the touch drove his need.
Adrian pushed her thin shirt upward and skimmed it from her. Beneath she wore a small bra of white lace that barely cupped her breasts. “Take this off.”
Amber gave him a faint smile and for a moment he hoped she’d ask him to do it for her. Not that he could with his clumsy, battered fingers, but he wouldn’t mind fumbling with it for a while as she rested against him.
Amber unhooked the bra with a soft click. Adrian pushed the slim straps down her arms and tossed the lace thing away.
Her breasts were firm and round, nicely fitting his hands as he gently cupped them. Fires grew within him as he lowered his head and traced the colorful outline of the butterfly on her collarbone with his tongue. The smell of honey and her taste were delectable.
This was different from when he’d kissed her in the bathroom of her Seattle home, when he’d teased her by undressing, pretending he didn’t know she was there. Those kisses had been playful, testing the waters. Even the exploring they’d shared on her bed and again on the beach had been tinged with a sense of wonder and newness, two people getting to know each other.
Now he wanted her with a mindless urgency, as though the only way he’d ever heal was with her touch.
Amber moved her hands across his shoulders, careful of his bruises. Adrian slid her body upward, kissing her flesh as he went, until he could take the hard point of her nipple into his mouth. The aroused bead pressed his tongue, her areole like satin.