Bittersweet Magic (30 page)

A small boat appeared from under the bridge and chugged past them.

“The city never really sleeps,” she murmured.

“I know. That’s why I like it here.”

“Me too. I love this place. I’ve lived all over the world, but I always come back to London when I can.”

“Will you stay?” he asked.

“Would you like me to?” She held her breath waiting for his answer.

He leaned down and nuzzled the side of her throat, nipped her ear lobe with his teeth and a ripple of remembered pleasure ran through her. “Yes.” His hands slid up her arms and he turned her to face him.

“I’ve been alone for so long, I’m not sure that I’ll be any good at anything else. But I’m willing to try.”

“Me too.”

“Of course, that’s presuming that any of us are still alive at the end of this. And I’ve got to admit, the last time I tried any sort of real relationship, it didn’t exactly have a happy ending.”

“Andarta?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I’d rather not talk about that bitch any more tonight. Tell me about your father. What do you remember?”

Roz thought back over the long years. She had memories of him, but she wasn’t sure they hadn’t been distorted through time.

“He was beautiful, like he glowed.” Closing her eyes, she pictured him. “Those early years, he was with us constantly. He used to teach me things.”

“What sort of things?”

“The door.”

“What door?”

Excitement was bubbling inside her. She’d forgotten that part. “There’s something inside me. A…difference. My father told me I must hide it away or bad people would find me, and they would kill my mother and me. He helped me build a wall with a door, and he taught me how to close the door, how to lock it tight.”

She glanced up to find Piers staring down into her face as though he could see into her soul and unlock her secrets. “Jonas will help you see if it’s safe to open your door.”

She shivered. “Maybe. Anyway, one day he was gone. My mother always swore he would be back, but he never came. Not even at the end.”

His grip tightened on her arms. “I’m glad you made that deal with Asmodai. I’m glad you stayed alive.”

She realized something and a surge of happiness flowed over her. “Me too. And I’m glad Jack turned you into a vampire.”

“So am I.”

He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, still swollen from his kisses, and the slumbering desire woke inside her. She flicked him with her tongue then shifted one hand to the back of his neck beneath the silky hair and pulled him down to her for a long, slow, drugging kiss. His tongue thrust inside, filling her as he pushed her back against the wall, his body pressing into hers so she could feel the hardening length of his erection against her stomach. Liquid heat flooded between her thighs, and she rubbed up against him.

Only the blare of a car horn as it drove past them broke them apart, and he laughed softly against her hair.

“Let’s go back,” he said. “Dawn will be here soon.”

The sky was growing pale in the east when they re-entered the building. He hesitated at the elevator. “Stay with me. I need to sleep.”

Exhaustion tugged at her mind, and her lids felt heavy. “So do I.”

Inside his apartment, he stripped her clothes, and made slow, savage love to her, stretching out the tension until she was begging for release. Only then did he tip them both over the edge.

Afterward, he lay beside her, propped on one elbow. “I know you’re not particularly good at doing what you’re told, but could I ask one thing?”

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“If you wake before me, stay inside. The building is okay, it’s warded, but don’t go outside.”

“Okay. I’ll stay inside.”

His eyes narrowed. “Wow. That was easy.”

“I’m feeling mellow.”

“Yeah, great sex will do that.”

“You’ll have to make sure I get plenty then.”

He leered. “I will.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and she snuggled into him. His body felt cool against the warmth of hers, but soon she drifted into a sleep. Her last thoughts were—
make the most of this because, chances are, it’s not going to last.

Chapter Twenty

The elevator opened directly onto the rooftop. Piers stood at her side, her hand clasped in his as though he sensed her nerves. Christian and Tara were behind them. The Walker had agreed to meet, and he would be here in a matter of minutes. Her insides churned with a combination of fear and anticipation.

As Roz stepped outside, Asmodai appeared out of nowhere, and she jumped. He was in his demon guise, nearly seven feet tall, huge black wings furled at his back. He tossed her a bundle. “Put it on.”

Roz pulled free of Piers and caught it. She shook out the material and found a black, velvet cloak, full-length and hooded. Obviously, Asmodai wanted her hidden. But why?

“You ashamed of me?” she asked.

A smile flickered across his lips. “Let’s just say, it might be better to get the bad news out of the way first.”

“He’s right,” Piers said. “For once.”

Wrapping the cloak around her, she pulled the hood over her hair. “It’s hot in here.”

“I don’t think it will be for long.” He gestured across the rooftop to where a group of faint figures was taking form.

Asmodai stood on one side of her, while Tara came to stand on the other. She slipped her hand in Roz’s and squeezed. Piers and Christian stood in front—the not-very-welcoming committee. Tension radiated from them, and the air thrummed with suppressed power.

The figures glowed with a pale luminescence that faded, revealing two men and a large gray cat. Beside her, Tara let out a small cry, tugged her hand free, and ran forward. She scooped up the cat and rained kisses down on its face. A low growl trickled from Christian, but Tara merely tossed him a grin.

Roz had almost been scared to look. Now she forced her attention to the two men. They could almost pass for human: tall, slender, both with silver-gilt hair down to their shoulders and long faces with pale skin and sharp cheekbones. They were hauntingly beautiful, and the air around them filled with a sweet subtle scent.

They were also almost identical, but she knew immediately which one was the Walker. She recognized him from those long ago memories, and she took an instinctive step forward. Asmodai stopped her, a hand on her arm. She threw him a filthy look but held herself still. Piers glanced back over his shoulder, and she nodded once. An expression of sympathy filled his eyes. He really didn’t like her father, and she was guessing the feeling was mutual.

Christian and Piers moved forward.

“Hey, Walker,” Piers said, “nice to see you’re still trying to blend in.”

Both the fae wore tight black pants tucked into long black leather boots and loose white shirts, and both wore swords at their sides.

The Walker ignored the comment. His crystal green gaze moved over their small group, not pausing on Roz, but narrowing when they settled on the demon beside her.

“Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” Piers waved a hand to the second fae who stood silent, his gaze fixed on Tara.

“This is my brother, Fallon, the leader of our people and the girl’s grandfather.”

Tara stopped cuddling the cat and stared.

“He wished to see her for himself.”

Fallon stepped forward. “I would talk with her while you conduct your business. Only if she wishes it.”

Tara nodded, and the two stepped away.

“Don’t go out of sight,” Christian said.

“She’ll be safe,” the Walker replied. “Now for this business. Why have you summoned me? And why is he”—he gestured toward Asmodai—“here?”

“Well, he is sort of family now,” Piers said. “And he is involved in this.”

“This?”

“We might have a small problem,” Christian said.

“A huge one, actually.”

“Speak it then.” The Walker’s tone was impatient.

So far, Roz wasn’t impressed. She could feel the fear rising inside her. But she wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. That he wouldn’t recognize her, that he wouldn’t acknowledge her. Or that he would, and he would hate her, want her dead…

“Andarta has the Key of Solon,” Piers said.

The Walker had been pacing the rooftop, but now he swung around to face them. “That can’t be. The Key was destroyed as part of the Accords.”

“Not exactly. It seems that the fact of its destruction might have been exaggerated.” Piers glanced back at Asmodai, who shrugged.

“I lied,” he said. “The Key was never destroyed, merely hidden.” He stepped closer and spread his wings, blocking out the starlit sky. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What is the Order going to do about it?” the Walker snarled, his hand resting on his sword.

Christian and Piers stepped closer to the two.

There was way too much testosterone on this rooftop. The air throbbed with power until Roz felt as though it must explode.

The Walker glanced across to where his brother stood with Tara. They were close together, but were looking their way. Fallon made a cutting motion with his hand and some of the tension eased out of the Walker.

“Much as I’d like to make my displeasure a little more concrete, I won’t risk a fight where my brother might be hurt.”

“How about if we promise not to touch him?” Piers said.

“Piers,” Christian snapped.

Piers shrugged. “Okay, no fight.” He glanced over his shoulder at Roz. “Probably for the best anyway, under the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” the Walker asked. “Is there something else I should know?”

“Later,” Christian said quickly.

“So, do you know what Andarta plans?”

“Same old,” Piers drawled. “Take over the worlds, enslave all other races, wreak havoc and destruction.”

“And have you a plan to stop her?”

“We haven’t quite worked that one out yet. This meeting was more in the way of a heads up.”

“Then I should get back and warn my people, prepare them for invasion. Thanks to your incompetence.”

“We think they’ll attack Earth first,” Christian said.

“So?”

“We’d like you to help.”

“And why would I do that? Why would I lift one finger to help? I’d stand by and watch all humanity die with a smile on my face.”

“Why do you hate them so much?” Asmodai asked.

“None of your business, demon.”

“I have a few theories. Well, only one actually, but it’s a good one.”

The Walker clamped his lips together and whirled around, heading toward where his brother still stood with Tara.

“You blame them for the loss of something you loved,” Asmodai called after him.

He stopped walking but didn’t turn back. “You know nothing.”

“I know more than you think.” Asmodai turned to her and held out a hand. “Rosamund?”

The Walker’s back stiffened, every muscle locking tight, then he turned. His face was expressionless. Roz took the demon’s hand and allowed him to pull her forward. She reached up and pushed the hood from her face. She still had no idea how this was going to go down, had no clue what he was thinking.

She bit her lip, tasted blood, and saw Piers turn toward her. He stepped closer, grabbed her free hand, and pulled her away from Asmodai.

She wasn’t sure whether he was aiming to comfort her or staking a claim. It didn’t matter; at his touch, strength flowed through her. She stood up taller, not that it would do much good. Among this lot she was a midget.

“Rosamund?” The Walker’s voice was soft, disbelieving.

She nodded, and Piers’ hand tightened on hers.

“You’re alive?”

“Obviously.”

He appeared dazed. “All this time, I believed you dead.”

“And I believed you had abandoned us. Left us to die. That you didn’t care.”

“I cared.”

“Then why?” All the old resentment rose up inside her and the words came out almost as a scream. She pulled free of Piers’ hold and squared up on the fae, hands on her hips. “Why did you leave us? Why didn’t you come back?” She’d always tried not to think of her father, tried not to remember him, as his betrayal carried too much pain. Now the suppressed rage of all those years came spilling out. “She died screaming your name.”

His face blanched of the little color it held. “I’m sorry.”

She could see from his expression that he was, but it wasn’t enough. “Then tell me why.”

“I left because there was a war on and I had no choice but to answer the call of my king.” His gaze flickered to his brother. “But I gave your mother a ring—a talisman—that she could use to call me, told her that if she needed me, I would come.”

“Fat lot of good that did. She called to you over and over but you never came.”

He swallowed. “I was a prisoner. There was a great battle, and I was captured and awaiting ransom when I got the call. I begged them to let me go, promised on my honor to return, and they refused. In the end, I killed the guards and broke free, but it was too late. I got there to find the village destroyed and two stakes all that remained. I found her ring among the ashes and presumed you had both died.”

His voice was filled with remembered horror, and some of the tension inside her loosened. He hadn’t abandoned them through choice. He had cared. Still, she couldn’t find it in herself to forgive him completely. He should never have left them so vulnerable. He should have taken them somewhere safe. No doubt, he’d been too ashamed of their mixed blood to take her to his people.

“You survived,” he said. “How?”

“After my mother was dead, they were coming for me. I called for help and someone answered.”

“Someone?”

“I saved her,” Asmodai said, his tone smug.

The fae’s eyes narrowed on the demon. “At what price?”

“Nothing I wasn’t willing to pay.” That wasn’t quite true, but there would be time to go into details later.

“You lay with a demon?” His tone held barely suppressed horror.

“Yeah, get over it. I’m five hundred years old—you expect me to still be a virgin?”

“But a demon.” He glanced at Piers, who stood at her back. “Still, things could have been worse.”

Why did she think things were going to get a whole lot worse, very quickly? She bit back a grin at the idea, as Piers came up behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back against the length of his body. She stiffened for a moment, before relaxing against him. There was no point in putting this off, and her “father” had better get used to the idea. From the horrified expression on his face, it looked like that was going to take some doing.