“You ready?” he asked.
Lily nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said. But inside, she ached for what could never be. Ty had closed himself off from love. And no amount of power, psychic or otherwise, was going to allow her to breach the walls he’d built around his heart.
T
HE SAFE HOUSE
was an ugly shell, Ty thought as they made their way down dingy and scuffed stairs, the passage tight enough that it made him slightly claustrophobic. But that didn’t stop it from being genius.
The safe house was cleverly located on a dilapidated street of row houses. Junk cars parked on the street, and garbage spilled into the gutter. A block farther down, crack houses and criminals abounded. It was nothing if not convincing, and no one but an immortal should have dared to venture into this part of the city if they valued their money or their life. But Ty had to admit, Rogan was a master at his trade, which was hiding and ferrying fugitives, along with a bit of illegal this and that for fun and profit. And the construction of this particular safe house was perfect. On the outside, there appeared to be separate homes sharing walls, but on the inside, a warren of interconnected rooms and hallways stretched the length of the block. It was simple enough for the casual visitor to get around in, but only
the proprietor himself was capable of navigating all of it. Rogan didn’t share his mazelike designs with anyone, and Ty thought that was fairly emblematic of his old acquaintance’s business philosophy: “When push comes to shove, it’s every man for himself.”
Ty didn’t trust him. Never had, never would. But tonight, he needed him.
The old bastard would get a kick out of that.
Ty heard Lily’s footfalls on the creaking stairs behind him. More, he heard every breath she took, every pulse of her human heart.
Her story was so like his, though she would never know it. To share it would open him in a way he had sworn never to do again. She would know nothing of him, in the end, but that he was Cait Sith and that he hadn’t been worth the affection she’d wasted on him.
Such was the life of the lowbloods who served their masters.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, which were situated at the head of a long hallway. Candles glowed in sconces on the walls, illuminating tired, peeling wallpaper. Most of the rooms were dark, but the doorway to one farther down was bright with the light of many candles. Raucous laughter spilled out toward them, and Ty steeled himself for what was to come.
It had been a hundred years since their last encounter, longer since Ty had declared that he would rather serve in a respectable dynasty than scrape a living being his own master. He doubted Rogan would let him forget it.
Ty turned his head to look slightly behind him at where Lily stood, head cocked, listening intently. Her hair was vibrant in the soft light, and her skin had a luminescent
glow. Tiny lights danced in her eyes when she looked back at him.
Gods, but she was beautiful.
But then, there was a reason for that, wasn’t there? She carried a mark that threatened to change the rule of the dynasties, if it were truly that of the Mother. She was human, yes, but she carried high blood.
Her very existence would cause an uproar—that is, if she was allowed to live. And after watching her tonight, he was less and less sure Arsinöe would permit that.
His eyes dropped to her neck, where he noted with a pleasant little shock that she’d tied his ribbon once again. Guilt gnawed at him along with a sudden rush of desire. His ribbon. His woman.
“Rogan will know you’re not my
sura
, Lily,” he said as gently as he could. Still, he reached out to finger the rich velvet of the ribbon, letting his fingertips brush against the pulse that beat at the base of her throat. It quickened at his touch, and immediately his mind was filled with thoughts of her naked beneath him, his teeth in her neck while he thrust madly inside of her. It was the height of vampire passion, and he knew it would be so good with her. Better than anything he’d ever dreamed in his long life.
It took a great deal of effort to pull his hand away, to speak as though he had nothing on his mind but the matter at hand. “I can’t hide most of the truth from him. He’s got eyes and ears everywhere.”
“I know,” Lily replied. “But this is a safe house, right? Other vampires are in and out of here. They don’t know who I am. All they’re going to know is that I’m not a vampire. So I thought we might as well keep up the pretense. I mean, unless that bothers you.”
He saw the flash of vulnerability, and his guilt only increased. Of course, it had been on a steady rise since the immediate euphoria of having made love to her had worn off. Ever since Jaden had called him on his foolishness.
“No, of course not,” Ty said, feeling his chest tighten. “You’re right.” Then he tried for a joke, wishing for anything to alleviate the almost suffocating need he felt for her. “Just try not to kill anyone or speak in tongues, and we should be good.”
Lily snorted and gave him a smile. “I’m on it.”
“Right, then,” Ty said, forcing his thoughts back to the very delicate matter at hand. “Rogan and I go back a long way. Don’t let him intimidate you, if he tries. And don’t let him grope you if he tries that either. The man’s a bastard, but a clever one, and he should be able to help us.”
“Why can’t we just get in your car and take off?” she asked.
“I wish.” Ty sighed. “But it’s far too late for that. You were… I mean, I was… I couldn’t be certain you were all right. You needed to be somewhere safe, and fast. The area was probably crawling with Dracul, even before the incident with you. They tend not to travel without backup. We won’t get out of here without Rogan’s help. He’ll know this city like the back of his hand. This isn’t my place, but it is his.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re sure we can trust him?”
As though that mattered. She shouldn’t be trusting
him
. He had warned her, Ty remembered. But it hadn’t made any difference—and how could it, if she felt even half as drawn to him as he was to her? But he had warned her. It was cold comfort. And it was all he had.
And the selfish part of him refused to deal with it right
this second, preferring to bask in being part of a unit while it lasted.
“Well,” he said, “Rogan’s out for himself. But he’s a man of his word, and if we meet his price, he’ll hold up his end of the bargain.”
“You’re saying he’s a man of honor.”
The way she said it made him laugh. “Aye, I suppose. But don’t ever tell him that; he’d hate it. Now come on.”
Whatever she’d been expecting a jack-of-all trades criminal vampire to look like, it wasn’t this.
Rogan McCarthy sat in the middle of a dingy living room, sprawled in a ruined recliner and holding court in the cavelike space with a bottle of red liquid parked in the vee of his legs. He was a small man, short and slight, but gifted with the supernatural good looks that all his kind seemed to share. His hair was deep brown and wavy, his features almost elfin, with large dark eyes that tipped up just a bit at the corners. He looked like he might have escaped from a fairy tale, maybe a mischievous sprite or one of the Fae’s more unpredictable members. It was disconcerting. But then, she was quickly learning that with vampires, looks didn’t tell you a thing. They were all beautiful, in their way.
It was their actions that were telling. But that took a bit more time to figure out.
From the demeanor of the small party gathered in the room, Lily guessed there was probably more than blood in Rogan’s bottle. The laughter was just a little too loud, a little too wild, to be naturally induced. And on top of that, their eyes shone reddish in the candlelight, a color she had never seen Ty’s eyes go. She heard him curse softly.
“Careful,” he murmured. “They’re hungry. The alcohol only makes it worse.”
Though she had a vague impression of others in the room, Lily’s attention was immediately caught by the two men on either side of Rogan, one immense in stature, with white hair pulled back in a short ponytail to reveal a beautifully sculpted face. Arresting, incredibly handsome, but cold. He looked like he might be a marble statue somehow come to life and escaped from a museum—and a little pissed off about having been kept still so long. The other vampire was his polar opposite, lean and dark, with café au lait skin, a swoop of ebony hair, and eyes that were dark-rimmed and liquidly beautiful despite their unnerving color.
Both turned to look at Lily, their laughter stopping abruptly as she and Ty walked into the room. A quick look around revealed ugly wood paneling, as well as faded and tattered furnishings that looked as though they’d been picked up at a series of curbs and saved from the dump. Jaden, who had managed to fade almost completely into the shadows, was in the far corner. She tried to shoot him an encouraging smile—there was something about Jaden that told her he needed as much sweetness in his life as he could get—but he was thoroughly preoccupied staring at the other person who was trying to blend into the woodwork rather than join the fun.
Lily’s eyes followed Jaden’s gaze, and she was surprised to see another woman seated casually in an overstuffed floral chair, as silent as the others were loud. Her hair was the color of rich chocolate woven with streaks of bright platinum, and a pair of bright golden eyes surveyed her shrewdly. She was much less drunk than the others, Lily saw, if at all. Apart from that, there was something
different about her, something Lily couldn’t quite put her finger on. And her guarded, suspicious expression made her nervous.
Not as much, however, as the man at the center of it all. Rogan, she saw immediately, was stone sober, his lengthened fangs exposing him as being hungry as hell. And his smile only made it look like he was getting ready to bite.
“Tynan, there you are,” Rogan said, seeming incredibly pleased about something. “I had a feeling that time would make a liar out of you. Weren’t you only supposed to come crawling back to me if the world ended, hell froze over, and the four horsemen of the Apocalypse were at your heels?”
Ty lifted one dark brow. “Haven’t you been outside tonight?”
Rogan laughed, a deep and booming sound that Lily found surprisingly infectious. The vampire stood and strode to Ty, not seeming the least bit intimidated by the fact that he was nearly a foot shorter. He clasped hands with Ty and pounded him on the arm.
“Still a smart-ass. Ah, well, I suppose it’s good to see you after all. Be better to see some of that Ptolemy money I’ve no doubt is lining your pockets. Lucky bastard. How are things in the land of the high and mighty?” He eyed Lily then, and she caught the calculating gleam in his pretty eyes. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my old friend Tynan MacGillivray, once of Edinburgh, late of the Ptolemy court.” Then he winked at Lily. “And this would be his lovely
sura
, Lily. Times are good for the Cait of the Ptolemy if they’re going so far as to let their more favored pets keep
suri
. Especially ones like this.” He slid smoothly from Ty’s grasp to take one of her hands in his and bowed to kiss it. His lips were cool against her skin.
“I do favor redheads, I must admit. Reminds me of home.”
“And where is home?” Lily asked, trying very hard not to be charmed because Ty had warned her. “Ireland?” His accent was a dead giveaway, but she was curious about his origins. Ty wasn’t interested in giving her his own story, and Jaden barely talked anyway. And yet the history they must have each seen fascinated her.
“Dublin born, my sweet lady,” Rogan replied with a devilish grin. “Though I was in Edinburgh for quite some time. Never picked up the accent, thank the gods for that. I could barely understand Tynan when he came to me. All that rolling the words together, and he spoke mainly Gaelic besides. Stupid and impractical, even at the time. But I suppose having a Highland heritage was something to cling to for his family. You’ve never seen anything more pathetic than the hovel they lived in, dirt poor and covered in filth.”
He started laughing, and Lily glanced at Ty. His expression was tight, grim. And yet Lily couldn’t help but hope Rogan would continue, only because this was the first she’d heard of Ty’s beginnings.
Still, it was obvious that even now, it pained him.
Rogan, who must have known exactly what sort of impact his loose words were having, continued gaily. “Remember when you went back, Tynan? The old witch who gave birth to you actually
spat
on the money you tried to give her! Superstitious old crone. Forked the evil eye and everything,” he crowed. “I always supposed they starved to death eventually, or disease got them. Which was it?”
“Smallpox,” Ty said, so softly that he was barely audible.
“Perfect,” Rogan said approvingly, making his way
back to flop in his recliner and taking a swig from his bottle. “Good riddance to them.”
Lily didn’t know why she did it, but she slid closer to Ty and slipped her hand into his where the others couldn’t see, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze. She could feel the pain radiating from him as though it were her own, and she hadn’t missed the sharpness of Rogan’s grin when he’d finished.
Ty had been right. Beneath the charming veneer was a man to be dealt with cautiously. And he’d known right where to hit Ty. He’d been dirt poor and had lost his family to smallpox after they’d shunned him for becoming what he was. No wonder he was so cautious, even now. No wonder he clung to his position with Arsinöe so tightly. There was a measure of acceptance. And at least the Ptolemy needed him.