Huntress, Black Dawn, Witchlight (7 page)

“If you won’t tell me, I give up.” He shrugged. “So, fine. If that’s the way you want it…”

“It is.”

“Whatever.” He turned back to her and reached for her shoulders.

A new shock rocked Jez. Morgead never hesitated once he made up his mind, but this was a little unnerving. His grip was a bit too firm and authoritative; Jez felt out of control.

And how am I going to shield myself? she thought wildly, clamping down on a new wave of fear. He’s already a powerful telepath and sharing blood increases rapport. How am I supposed to block
that
—?

Everything was happening too fast; she didn’t have time to plan or think. All she could do was try not to panic as Morgead drew her close.

Jerk…he’s had too much experience at this, part of her thought furiously. At subduing any kind of prey. At gentling scared girls—human girls.

He was holding her lightly and precisely; he was tilting her chin back. Jez shut her eyes and tried to blank her mind.

And now she could feel the warmth of his face near her skin; she could feel his breath on her throat. She knew his canine teeth were extending, lengthening, thinning to needle points. She tried to control her breathing.

She felt a swathe of warmth as he licked her throat once, and then a pain that made her own teeth ache. His teeth had pierced her skin, sharp as obsidian.

Then the release of blood flowing. Her life, spilling out. The instinctive twinge of fear Jez felt had nothing to do with him invading her mind.

No vampire liked to make this kind of submission. Letting someone drink your blood meant you were weaker, it meant you were willingly making yourself prey. Everything inside Jez protested at just relaxing and letting Morgead do this.

And maybe that was the answer, she thought suddenly. A wall of turmoil to cover her thoughts. Pretend to be too agitated to let him make contact….

But his lips were surprisingly soft on her throat, and the pain was gone, and he was holding her more like a lover than like a predator. She could feel his mind all around her, strong, demanding.

He wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was trying to make it not-terrible for her.

But I want it to be terrible. I don’t want to feel like this….

It didn’t matter. She felt as if she were being pulled by a swift current, dragged and tumbled into some place she had never been before. Sparkling lights danced behind her closed eyelids. Electricity crackled through her body.

And then she felt his mouth moving gently on her throat, and the world fell away….

N
o. This can’t be happening.

Jez had never felt anything like this before, but she knew instinctively that it was dangerous. She was being pulled into Morgead’s
mind.
She could feel it surrounding her, enfolding her, a touch that was light but almost irresistible, that was trying to draw out the most secret part of herself.

And the most frightening thing was that Morgead wasn’t doing it.

It was something outside both of them, something that was trying to mix them together like two pools of water being stirred. Jez could feel that Morgead was as startled and astonished as she was. The only difference was that he didn’t seem to be resisting the force. He didn’t seem terrified and unhappy about it, as Jez was. He seemed…exhilarated and wondering, like somebody skydiving for the first time.

That’s because he’s
crazy,
Jez thought dizzily. He loves danger and he enjoys courting death—

I enjoy you,
a voice said in her mind.

Morgead’s voice. Soft as a whisper, a feather-touch that shook Jez to her soul.

It had been so long since she’d heard that voice.

And he had heard
her.
Sharing blood made even humans telepathic. Jez hadn’t been able to talk mentally since—

She managed to cut the thought off as panic surged through her. While one part of her mind gabbled desperately, “He’s here, he’s here, he’s
inside,
what are we going to do now?” another part threw up a smoke screen, flooding her thoughts with visions of mist and clouds.

There was something like a swift gasp from Morgead.

Jez, don’t. Don’t hide from me—

You’re not allowed here,
she snapped back, this time directing the thought straight at him.
Go away!

I can’t.
For just a moment his mental voice sounded confused and scared. She hadn’t realized Morgead could
be
confused and scared.
I’m not doing this. It’s just—happening.

But it shouldn’t be happening, Jez thought, and she didn’t know whether she was talking to him or just to herself. She was beginning to shake. She couldn’t resist the pull that was trying to bring her soul to the surface and intermingle it with Morgead’s—she
couldn’t.
It was stronger than anything she’d ever experienced. But she knew that if she gave in, she was dead.

Don’t be afraid. Don’t,
Morgead said in a voice she had never heard from him before. A voice of desperate gentleness. His mind was trying to wrap around hers protectively, like dark wings shielding her, touching her softly.

Jez felt her insides turn to water.

No.
No…

Yes,
Morgead’s voice whispered.

She had to stop this—now. She had to break the contact. But although Jez could still feel her physical body, she seemed powerless to control it. She could sense Morgead’s arms supporting her and his lips on her throat and she knew that he was still drinking. But she couldn’t so much as move a finger to push him away. The muscles that she’d trained so ruthlessly to obey her under any circumstances were betraying her now.

She had to try another way.

This shouldn’t be happening,
she told Morgead, putting all the energy of her terror behind the thought.

I know. But that’s because you’re fighting it. We should be somewhere else by now.

Jez was exasperated.
Where else?

I don’t know,
he said, and she could feel a tinge of sadness in his thought.
Some place—deeper. Where we’d really be together. But you won’t open your mind….

Morgead, what are you talking about? What do you think is going on?

He seemed genuinely surprised.
Don’t you know? It’s the soulmate principle.

Jez felt the floor drop away beneath her.

No. That’s not possible. That can’t
be.
She wasn’t talking to Morgead anymore; she was desperately trying to convince herself. I’m not soulmates with Morgead. I can’t be. We hate each other…he hates me…all we ever do is fight….

He’s impossible and dangerous and hotheaded and stubborn…he’s crazy…he’s angry and hostile…he’s frustrating and infuriating and he loves to make me miserable…

And I don’t even believe in soulmates. And even if I did, I wouldn’t believe it could happen like this, just bang, out of the blue, like getting hit by a train when you’re not looking, without any warning or even any attraction to the person beforehand….

But the very hysteria of her own thoughts was a bad sign. Anything that could tear away her self-control like this was powerful almost beyond imagination. And she could still feel it pulling at her, trying to strip off the layers of cloud she was hiding behind. It wanted Morgead to
see
her as she truly was.

And it was trying to show her Morgead. Flashes of his life, of himself. Glimpses that hit her and seemed to cut cleanly through her, leaving her gasping with their intensity.

A little boy with a mop of tousled dark hair and eyes like emerald, watching his mother walk out the door with some man—again. Going to play alone in the darkness, amusing
himself. And then meeting a little redheaded girl, a girl with silvery-blue eyes and a flashing smile. And not being alone anymore. And walking on fences with her in the cool night air, chasing small animals, falling and giggling….

A slightly older boy with longer hair that fell around his face, uncared-for. Watching his mother walk out one last time, never to come back. Hunting for food, sleeping in an empty house that got messier and messier. Learning to care for himself. Training himself. Getting harder, in mind and body, seeing a sullen expression when he looked in the mirror…

A boy even older watching humans, who were weak and silly and short-lived, but who had all the things he didn’t have. Family, security, food every night. Watching the Night People, the elders, who felt no responsibility to help an abandoned vampire child….

I never knew,
Jez thought. She still felt dizzy, as if she couldn’t get enough air. The images were dazzling in their clarity and they tore at her heart.

A boy who started a gang to create a family, and who went first to the little girl with red hair. The two of them grinning wickedly, running wild in the streets, finding others. Collecting kids the adults couldn’t control or wouldn’t miss. Walking around the worst parts of town, unafraid—because they had one another now.

The images were coming faster, and Jez could hardly keep up with them.

Dashing through the metal scrap yard…with Jez…Hiding under a fish-smelling wharf…from Jez…His first big kill, a stag in the hills of San Rafael…and Jez there to share the hot blood that warmed and intoxicated and brought life all at once. Fear and happiness and anger and arguments, hurt and sadness and exasperation—but always with Jez interwoven into the fabric. She was always there in his memories, fire-colored hair streaming behind her, heavy-lashed eyes snapping with challenge and excitement. She was everything bright and eager and brave and honest. She was haloed with flame.

I didn’t know…how could I know? How could I realize I meant so much to him…?

And who would have thought it would mean so much to her when she found out? She was stunned, overcome—but something inside her was singing, too.

She was
happy
about it. She could feel something bubbling up that she hadn’t even realized was there; a wild and heady delight that seemed to shoot out to the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet.

Morgead,
she whispered with her mind.

She could sense him, but for once he didn’t answer. She felt his sudden fear, his own desire to run and hide. He hadn’t meant to show her these things. They were being forced out of him by the same power that was dragging at Jez.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look,
she thought to him.
I’ll go away….

No.
Suddenly he wasn’t hiding anymore.
No, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay.

Jez felt herself flow toward him, helplessly. The truth was that she didn’t know if she could turn away even if he’d wanted her to. She could feel his mind touching hers—she could taste the very essence of his soul. And it made her tremble.

This was like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was so strange…but so wonderful. A pleasure that she couldn’t have dreamed of. To be this close, and to be getting closer, like fire and bright darkness merging…To feel her mind opening to him…

And then the distant echo of fear, like an animal screaming a warning.

Are you insane? This is
Morgead.
Let him see your soul…pry open your innermost secrets…and you won’t live long enough to regret it. He’ll tear your throat out the instant he finds out…

Jez flinched wildly from the voice. She didn’t want to resist the pull to Morgead any longer. But fear was shivering through her, poisoning the warmth and closeness, freezing the edges of her mind. And she knew that the voice was the only rationality left in her.

Do you want to die? it asked her point-blank.

Jez,
Morgead was saying quietly.
What’s wrong? Why won’t you let it happen?

Not just you dying, the voice said. All those others. Claire and Aunt Nan and Uncle Jim and Ricky. Hugh…

Something white-hot flickered through her. Hugh. Whom she loved. Who couldn’t fight for himself. She hadn’t even
thought
of him since she’d entered Morgead’s mind—and that terrified her.

How could she have forgotten him? For the last year Hugh had represented everything good to her. He’d awakened feelings in her that she’d never had before. And he was the one person she would never betray.

Jez,
Morgead said.

Jez did the only thing she could think of. She threw an image at him, a picture to stir his memories. A picture of her walking out, leaving the gang, leaving him.

It wasn’t a real picture, of course. It was a symbol.

It was bait.

And she felt it hit Morgead’s mind and clash there, and strike memories that flew like sparks.

The first meeting of the gang with her not there. Questions. Puzzlement. All of them searching for her, trying to find a hint of her unique Power signature on the streets. At first laughing as they called for her, making it a game, then the laughter turning into annoyance as she stayed missing. Then annoyance turning into worry.

Her uncle Bracken’s house. The gang crowded on the doorstep with Morgead in front. Uncle Bracken looking lost
and sad. “I don’t know where she is. She just—disappeared.” And worry turning into gut-wrenching fear. Fear and anger and sorrow and betrayal.

If she wasn’t dead, then she’d abandoned him. Just like everyone else. Just like his mother.

And that grief and fury building, both perfectly balanced because Morgead didn’t know which was the truth. But always with the knowledge, either way, that the world was cold because she was gone.

And then…her appearing in his room today. Obviously alive. Insultingly healthy. And unforgivably casual as she told him he would never know why she’d left.

Jez felt Morgead’s outrage swelling up, a dark wave inside him, a coldness that felt no mercy for anyone and only wanted to hurt and kill. It was filling him, sweeping everything else away. Just being in contact with it started her heart pounding and shortened her breath. Its raw violence was terrifying.

You left me!
he snarled at her, three syllables with a world of bitterness behind them.

I had to. And I’ll never tell you why.
Jez could feel her own eyes stinging; she supposed he could sense how it hurt her to say that. But it was the only thing that would work. The pull between them was weakening, being smashed away by his anger.

You’re a traitor,
he said. And the image behind it was that of everyone who’d ever betrayed a friend or a lover or a cause for
the most selfish of reasons. Every betrayer from the history of the human world or the Night World. That was what Morgead thought of her.

I don’t care what you think,
she said.

You never cared,
he shot back.
I know that now. I don’t know why I ever thought differently.

The force that had been trying to drag them together had thinned to a silver thread of connection. And that was good—it was
necessary,
Jez told herself. She made an effort and felt herself slide away from Morgead’s mind, and then further, and then further.

You’d better not forget it again,
she said. It was easier to be nasty when she couldn’t feel his reactions.
It might be bad for your health.

Don’t worry,
he told her briefly.
I can take care of myself. And you’d better believe I’ll never forget.

The thread was so fine and taut that Jez could hardly sense it now. She felt an odd lurch inside her, a pleading, but she knew what needed to be done.

I do what I want to, for my own reasons,
she said.
And nobody questions me. I’m leader, remember?

Snap!

It was a physical sensation, the feeling of breaking away, as Morgead was carried off on a wave of his own black anger. He was retreating from her so fast that it made her dizzy….

And then her eyes were open and she was in her own body.

Jez blinked, trying to focus on the room. She was looking up at the ceiling, and everything was too bright and too large and too fuzzy. Morgead’s arms were around her and her throat was arched back, still exposed. Every nerve was quivering.

Then suddenly the arms around her let go and she fell. She landed on her back, still blinking, trying to gather herself and figure out which muscles moved what. Her throat stung, and she could feel dampness there. She was giddy.

“What’s wrong with you? Get up and get out,” Morgead snarled. Jez focused on him. He looked very tall from her upside-down vantage point. His green eyes were as cold as chips of gemstone.