Unearthed

  “I am not late—your message said we would meet at sundown. Why then would you not greet me kindly? Especially after so much time apart.” He scowled. “Has something changed, Addison? Do you not feel the same as you did when you walked away?”

  “Stop saying that I left you and walked away. I couldn’t help it. If the seers had choices about how they wanted to live their own lives, I wouldn’t have to do any of this. Be like this.” She could have a real life. With him. “This is more your fault than mine.”

  She knew he was making things better for seers, even while dealing with all the politics, other races, and potential danger to himself. But despite all that, it was easier to blame him, to pretend it was his fault, that all the mistakes she’d made were due to something other than her own failures.

  “You blame me for this? Believe that I would willingly bring about something that causes me this much pain?” He dropped his gaze. “I do not sleep, Addison, in part because of my age and in part, because you are not lying next to me. Therefore, I get no reprieve from this hurt, no break from this grief. I have lived inside it twenty-four hours a day for the last 186 days.” He kept track of it in days? Wow. Who knew she could feel even guiltier?

  “That’s like a blink of time for you.”

  He shook his head. “That is like an eternity of darkness for me.”

  Her lip started trembling and she looked away, knowing words couldn’t make things better. Admitting how badly she needed him, how much she wished she could curl up in his arms whenever she felt weak, would just make things worse. So would trying to fool both of them into believing she was strong and didn’t need him every single day.

  There was no way to win this. They could only survive it.

  “I shouldn’t have asked you to come here. I should—” Run. She should run. So she tried. She turned around and got one good step between them before she felt his arms slip around her waist, the heat of his body on her back.

  “Answer my question, Addison. Do you not feel the same for me as you did?”

  “Yes.” She felt him tighten. “I mean no. I mean—I don’t know how to answer because I’m pretty sure your question was grammatically incorrect.”

  “Do you still love me?” A much simpler question that was just as complicated to answer.

  Unless she told him the truth. “Yes.”

  He turned her around. “Then politics and arguments will have to wait until after I have kissed you.” Leaning down, he closed the small space between them. “We should enjoy each other every moment we can. Please.”

  She accepted his kiss, knowing how hard it was for him to say that word—that he never said it to anyone but her. Then she felt it become more than a simple greeting. Wanted it. Him. Ugh. This is torture. And perfection.

  Her lips belonged on his, their tongues intertwined. This was meant to be. They were meant to be, if they could only find a way. Her fear, her hurt, blurred with his touch until he was the only thing she remembered.

  He ran his fingertips from her hands resting on his chest, up her arms and around her, pulling her in, holding her to him as if he was afraid she would run. Like she had the last time they’d seen each other.

  She whimpered when she realized what she was feeling. More than pleasure and lust and heat, it was safety and security and trust. Within the curl of his arms was the only place she felt safe.

  “I had almost forgotten your scent,” he mumbled against her neck. “Artificial lilac fragrance with a hint of petroleum. Were I to smell it on anything but you, I would consider buying the factory that produces it simply to make them stop.” She laughed until his hand wrapped around her throat, pushing her chin up just so he could maneuver better. His lips heated her skin. “Yet you make even that beautiful. I cannot lose your scent again, Addison. You cannot deprive me of this for months at a time. I do not want to forget.”

  She didn’t either, even though it would be better for everyone if she could. Any day, the seers who followed her would realize she was a fraud. That she was just as scared and ignorant of the supers as everyone else. That their ‘leader’ was still in love with the being they most feared and hated. The king of the vampire race, the Prime of the North American zone, the love she couldn’t have. The one they blamed for the deaths of their friends. It wasn’t his fault. It was hers.

  They would never believe that he was the most amazing person she’d ever known and believed in. No one but her most trusted friends could ever know Rhyse was playing both sides, doing what he thought was right and protecting her people from his as much as he could. Something she’d never reciprocate. This was war—fairness didn’t belong anywhere near it. And this was the Heights—fairness didn’t happen anywhere near it.

  The goal was to change the system, not kill all supers, but she shed no tears when it happened to someone truly deserving. Maybe Keira was the way to make Rhyse truly understand.

  “I’m here,” she said, pushing him away, “to ask you for a favor.”

  “As am I.”

  Her eyebrow popped up. “Am I going to like your favor?”

  His hand slid from her waist down to her ass, and he pulled her into his hard…everything. “You have many times before. And yes, I believe you would again.”

  “I can’t.” But holy crap did she want to. She glanced around the park. “Not now.”

  “Yet you expect me to do something for you.”

  “I could hold out until you agreed.” She laughed, but it came out totally weird sounding because it had way too much powers-yes-give-it-to-me-right-now in it.

  He ran a finger the length of her collarbone, then down between her breasts. “You could hold out until I popped the first button of your blouse.”

  So cocky…and so correct. “Damn you. Can we focus, please?”

  His gaze never moved. “I am focused.”

  “Is everything about sex for you?”

  He looked her in the eyes, shocked. The shake of his head was controlled, as all of his movements were. Controlled and deliberate. “Not sex. Love. Everything is about love. And about wanting the time to show you how much I do.”

  She shouldn’t let him talk at all. Tape his mouth shut or something. Because when he talked, she melted and forgot she could use her brain for words other than yes.

  “How about you show me by doing me the favor?”

  “You will have to tell me what it is before I agree, because there are many things I cannot do. For instance, I cannot stop desiring you or loving you or—”

  “It’s about Lamere.”

  “Whom I neither desire nor love,” he grumbled. “What about him?”

  “The council sent a demon after him.”

  “Yes,” he said, pulling back for the first time, his eyes narrowed.

  “I need you to cancel the contract.”

  “Why? Lamere has broken the law and is dangerous to humans.”

  “I know. I’ve seen proof.”

  He let out a low breath and dropped his arms to his sides. “In what manner?”

  “We sent someone after him, too. She came to see me to find out more about demons. She’s an amazing woman, young but tough. Because of what she’s been through.” Was that enough prep before the big reveal? “Because Lamere kept her hidden for three years.”

  “Kept her. Unsanctioned? That is impossible. We would have known.”

  “Yeah well, you didn’t. I saw what he did to her, Rhyse. It was…” An awful enough word didn’t exist in the English language.

  Rhyse sighed. “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t. You can’t, because until I saw what he’d done to her, even I didn’t understand. When she’s ready, I’m going to introduce you to her. You’ll have to wear a hat or a mustache or something so she doesn’t recognize you, but when you see her, that’s when you’ll understand.”

  He nodded solemnly. “And this hunter wants to kill him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then she should. But make sure she knows t
he death of her abuser will not bring back those three years. Revenge does not make bad memories go away, it only creates new ones to layer on top of the old. They will be different, but they will still be unpleasant.”

  “Nothing can take the scars off her body, but being there and knowing he’s really gone might help heal the other kind.”

  “Tell her Lamere is hers. And tell her I am sorry for what she was forced to endure.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed him. Not to thank him for the favor, but because she knew he really was sorry. Her next kiss was because this moment might have to last her a while and she needed his strength to keep going, despite their being on opposite sides. “I miss you so much.”

  “I know.” His smile broke her heart. “And I you.”

  “I should go.”

  “No.”

  “I have to.”

  He groaned in frustration—part sexual, part having to deal with her probably. “I wish to see you again.”

  She hesitated. “When?”

  “Five minutes from now, twenty years from now, and every moment in between.”

  “Yeah well…that can’t happen.”

  He sighed. “We live in a world of secrets, Addison. This is simply one more. If someone were to find out, it could be taken care of.”

  “There’s no ‘if’ in this. Someone would find out, because someone always finds out about things like this. Because I’ll be in the wrong place or say the wrong thing. I’ll make a mistake, and when I make mistakes people die, Rhyse. They die. It’s hard enough when it’s because they’re doing something dangerous for the Rising. But if someone dies because I want to see you. Or be with you.” She shook her head. “I can’t live with that. Even the chance of it. I’m not allowed to take risks because it’s not my life I’m risking.”

  His hands slipped to her waist when she stepped back. “I see a fear in you I had hoped would never be. If you would let me—”

  “What? What else can you do without someone finding out? Without getting yourself killed? Please don’t. I couldn’t handle it. You’re careful, right?”

  “Why do you insist on caring for others more than yourself?”

  “Because I can’t lose anyone else. And because…I could never do this without you.”

  “You will never have to.” He let go of her reluctantly and touched his lips. “My love?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Next time we meet—which will be soon—please pick somewhere less public. And with a bed. Or a wall. And wear a skirt, but not a knit skirt.”

  She laughed. “No knits. Aye-aye, my captain.” With a quick salute and stiff legs, she walked away from him. “Or is it my king?”

  Then she heard him say, “I have no desire to be your captain or your king. Or anything but yours.” When she looked back, he was gone.

  Nine

  “Aren’t you looking annoyingly fresh and bright this morning?” The arrogant sarcasm could only belong to one person. A person who wasn’t supposed to know where Keira lived. After Lamere’s bonfire of her old place, she’d been even more careful. She never used any of the abandoned office building’s doors, always either jumping from the roof to the one next to it and going out that building’s back door, going down into the underground parking garage—but not often because parking garages had way too many places for enemies to hide behind. Or climbing down the fire escape from one floor below the office/living space she’d recently ‘borrowed’ from the city of San Francisco. But never the same way out two days in a row.

  Safety is no accident.

  Total overkill…unless you were dealing with a demon. How could she have forgotten? He could find Waldo in the middle of a prison fight. Speaking of fights…

  She had class in ten minutes. Krav Maga was the closest thing to demon-fighting preparedness, and she’d been the star pupil since she’d gotten away from Lamere. It also kept her busy when she wasn’t at her crap-paying job with the Rising and her only-slightly-better-crap-paying job as a shipper for one of the grocers in the Heights. Grocers provided all the hard-to-get items the supernaturals needed, including fresh blood. Perfect job because no one cared if she came in looking a little roughed up after a fight. Plus, she saw every order that came in, blood and other fun stuff for food, rituals, or sport. But it kept her away from the supers themselves—another safety issue. She could shield her mind pretty well, but no one was perfect. Her most of all.

  “Just kidding,” he said lazily, leaning against the wall down the hallway, between her and the stairs. “You look the same as you did last time I saw you. It was okay then. It’s okay now. Probably be a lot better if you took off everything you’re wearing.”

  “Weren’t you told to back off?” she snapped. Very mature and productive. Just because she couldn’t control her hormones. He was so damn close to perfection and took the whole bad boy thing to an entirely different level. Literally.

  He popped an eyebrow, crossing his arms and stepping in front of her. “How did you know that?”

  “Rumor.”

  “Really?”

  “Just because you’re not in the loop doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” If he saw her react, he’d use it against her. She knew it. So she mirrored his calm, why-would-I-give-a-shit attitude. “Do demons have names?”

  “Of course we have names. And, unlike angels, we don’t get all snobby about people knowing them.”

  She waited silently.

  “Oh,” he said finally. “It’s Davyn. Congrats, now you have something to curse while you’re dying.”

  “So Davyn, if you were told to back off, why aren’t you?” Not that she was surprised—she wouldn’t have either.

  “Shockingly, I don’t spend a lot of time doing what other people tell me to do. Plus, watching you and your humanness bluster around makes me giggle. That I get to look at your ass is an added bonus. But the biggest and best reason is because after Lamere kills you, somebody needs to kill him.”

  “He won’t kill me.”

  “I like your confidence, puppet. I really do. It’s cute. But it’s also grossly inappropriate and is probably the thing that will get you killed. Unless it’s one of the other things that gets you killed.” He shrugged. “We’re talking about one of the most immoral vamps since the histories were written. And that’s saying a fuckload, considering vamps have never been known for their generosity and ability to let things live. Lamere is smart, knows the city better than we do, and probably works out a lot. Who knows? Maybe he’s careful about his diet and sticks to drinking from humans who don’t have diabetes or high triglycerides. Blood Lite.”

  “You know what’s going to kill me?” she asked. “The mixture of your long-windedness and bad jokes. I think they’ve sucked all the oxygen out of this building. So if you could either get to the point or get out of my way…”

  “I bought a new shirt. Like it?” He held his arms out to the sides, exposing a black t-shirt that clung to his chest and had ‘demon’ written in bold lettering across it. “I thought it would be helpful, since you seem to forget sometimes.”

  “It’s…nice.”

  “Glad you like it. ’Cause I got you one too.” She fumbled when he tossed her a rolled-up bundle, not exactly expecting any of this.

  “A demon shirt?” She shook it out and held it up. The word ‘human’ was written twice—once upside down and the other just underneath but right side up.

  “I had it printed that way so both of us can read it. If you don’t like it, I’ll give it to the next hunter I run into. You know, after you’re dead.”

  “No, I…I love it. It’s without a doubt the best gift I’ve ever gotten from a demon.”

  “Good. So now that we remember what we are, how about the one of us who’s mortal backs off?”

  “That’s not going to happen. Do you want the shirt back?”

  He didn’t move, just studied her for a minute. “I’m trying to warn you here, puppet. You can’t compete in this.”

  In al
most every way that was true. But if the contest was about who wanted it more and who’d sacrifice everything to get it, Keira would already be picking out a good spot for her trophy.

  “You said I could kill him.”

  “No, I didn’t. You need to listen to what I say and not to what you want to hear. Did I say you could have a chance? Yes. Did I say you would stand a chance? No way. Because that would be a lie. And while demons lie all the fucking time, this time I’m not. You know, because lying is sinful and you know what happens to sinners.” He laughed.

  “Then help me.” She’d never get rid of him and, truth be told, he might come in handy someday. “Let’s work together instead of just getting in each other’s way.” Probably the worst idea ever. Addison and Parker had warned her to stay away from him. Advice given by the two smartest women she’d ever met, and Keira was doing the exact opposite of what they’d told her to do.

  They weren’t here, though, and they hadn’t been in Lamere’s torture chamber. They hadn’t lived in hell for three years like she had. Like Davyn had. She didn’t know much about demons, but she knew no human could understand what it had been like and what it had done to her. What she dreamed of every night and woke up expecting every morning. Jolting up from the mattress, shaking and confused, not knowing where she was. Only able to breathe after she’d felt the softness of the bed under her, something Lamere would never have allowed. Unless she was in his bed, praying he’d accidentally drink too deeply, or bleed her too much, and she’d die.

  A demon would know, understand, have caused it in others, and felt it. Because hell couldn’t possibly be worse than where she’d been. Where she still was when her needs got overwhelming.

  “Are you always so serious, puppet? Do you ever take time off from the scowling?”

  She could ignore his insults, but she couldn’t do this alone. So as much as she hated it, she needed his help. There was only one way to get a demon to do anything you wanted them to.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” she said, glad her voice didn’t betray her desperation.

  “What do you have that I want?”