Immortal Craving (Dark Dynasties) (16 page)

Lily pressed her lips together, looking away for a moment. When her gaze returned to his, he saw the resignation in it.

“I guess I knew there would be talk. I didn’t know it would have gotten so far by now.”

He laughed softly. “You’re young. Gossip has always been a favorite pastime of immortals. It’s one of the only things that changes quickly.”

She gave him a ghost of a smile that faded almost as soon as it appeared.

“There was a demon in the desert,” Lily said. “A sort
of… fallen angel. It decimated the Grigori leadership before it escaped.”

Chaos
.

The name surfaced in his mind, unbidden—a greedy, eager whisper. He fought off a shiver and tried to keep his focus on Lily. The demon inside of him rejoiced. Tasmin could feel it even now, a black glee born of pure evil. It boded poorly for them all.

“So that was the secret the Grigori kept,” Tasmin said. “Even as far removed from them as the Rakshasa were, we still heard stories.”

“It was… a little more than that,” Lily admitted. “That demon was their brother. He thrives on souls, the stronger the better. And he almost took the leaders of the American dynasties in one fell swoop, myself included.”

This was news he hadn’t heard even a whisper of. That the dynasties had come so close to falling was stunning.

“But this demon still runs free?” Tasmin asked. But he knew.

Lily nodded. “We keep waiting for him to make a move, but there’s been nothing. My people are closely allied with the Dracul. Vlad, their leader, is an expert on vampire history and lore, and he’s convinced that Chaos will be looking to raise an army of sleeping demons to destroy the dynasties and remake… well, everything.”

Tasmin went cold, suddenly certain he knew the exact location of one of these sleeping demons. But it slept no longer. And it had already whispered the name of its master.

“An army of demons,” he murmured. He could only begin to imagine how horrible that might be.

“We can talk more about it tonight,” Lily said. “The
sun’s getting ready to rise. Everyone else is already in bed. I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right before I turned in. My healer was impressed with your strength. She didn’t see any problems, but I always worry.”

Knowing he’d been examined by the healer already was a relief. She’d found nothing to alarm her… just the same as the other healers he’d seen, save Shakti. The healer who had told him he’d been cursed by the gods.

That had felt true then, so true that he hadn’t bothered to give chase when the man had fled.

“Before you go… was I… poisoned?” Tasmin asked.

Memory flickered to life all at once.
Many hands holding him down. Whispered chants. Cold laughter. And that terrible burning, a venomous snake slithering through his veins.

Lily’s jaw tightened as she gave a sharp nod. “Arsinöe’s weapon of choice, as always.” Then her eyes narrowed, full of concern. “Are you all right? You look pale again. Kira left a few things she said would help, just in case…”

“No,” Tasmin whispered, trying to shake off the sudden clammy chill of his skin, the faint nausea. He’d remembered nothing but his final day with his pride up until now. These images… they provoked such horror in him. What had happened? Who had done this to him?

But those memories remained locked to him.

“I think I just need to rest,” Tasmin said, hoping he sounded calm. His eyes moved back to Bailey, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the terrible things being discussed while she was safe in her dreams. He was glad. Nothing as vile as what his kind did to one another should ever come so close to touching her again.

“Is she going to be all right?” Tasmin asked when Lily
followed his gaze. “What she saw was… not something most humans would handle well.”

Lily nodded. “Yes. Bay can handle a lot more than you’d think. And… still probably not quite as much as she thinks she can.” Her smile was affectionate when she looked at her friend. “She’s awfully stubborn.”

“I noticed.”

That seemed to amuse her, though her smile was bittersweet. “Thank you for protecting her,” Lily said, her fingertips brushing over Bailey’s hair. “Until Ty, she was my only family.”

The knife’s blade of his guilt, already pricking at him, slid in a little deeper and twisted.

“I did what anyone would do,” he replied, trying to deflect what he knew he didn’t deserve. Yes, he had saved her… but only after he’d slipped into a state near her that could easily have ended in her dying by his own hand. And it wasn’t the first time. He should have run in the other direction the moment he’d scented her. But where Bailey was concerned, he didn’t seem to be able to help himself. He had to find a way to remedy that as soon as possible.

Lily seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts.

“She’s one of the warmest, funniest, most loyal people I know. She’d never abandon me, no matter how dangerous it got for her. No matter how much she should. I love her for it. And I’m terrified I’ll lose her because of it.” Lily looked at him with eyes that were far older than her years.

“I won’t have her hurt.”

Tasmin considered the heavily weighted words while he watched Bailey sleep.

“If you’re warning me off, there’s no need. I have no
intention of getting close enough to hurt her,” he said coolly.

Lily’s soft laugh, faintly sad, startled him. When he looked up, she was watching him with eyes that were impossible to read.

“You already are.”

There were few cars on the road when Tasmin drove Bailey home in her big, fairly messy SUV.

The sunrise had so far done nothing but turn the sky a lighter shade of gray, and there was the promise of snow in the air—this time, far more than what had fallen the other night. Bailey was curled up in the passenger seat, her head resting on the window and lolling a little every time they hit the smallest bump. Tasmin hunched over the steering wheel, frowning, driving as slowly as he could without being conspicuous. He had quickly learned to operate his motorcycle like it was a part of him, but larger vehicles remained, for the most part, both a puzzle and a threat.

He rolled into her driveway, put the SUV in park, and killed the engine. Then he turned and looked at Bailey. She hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash—because she hadn’t opened her eyes at all. Whatever herbs the healer had given her had more than done their job. Too well, actually. He’d begun to worry that this Kira had given Bailey a vampire’s dose of sleeping draught, far more powerful than anything a mortal should have.

Maybe he would watch her awhile, Tasmin decided… just in case.

He got out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door and sliding her easily into his arms. She
seemed to weigh nothing, as warm and easily carried as a kitten. The moment she was curled against him, she snuggled deeper into his chest with a sigh.

“Tas,” she breathed.

It startled a smile out of him. He refused to use her nickname, but she created one for him. He wondered if she would even remember saying it.

He hoped so. He had forgotten far too much, enough for both of them. His smile vanished as he carried her to the door. Tasmin fumbled with the key chain for a minute, finally finding the one Lily had described to him and unlocking the dead bolt.

The house was mostly silent as he carried her in, though he heard the faint sound of a cage rattling. He’d seen the big wire crate in her bedroom, understood that it was where Grimm was kept when he was left to his own devices for an extended period of time. Someone had been over to let him out in the night, Lily had told him, but Bailey would need to do so again. At least, he thought, eyeing her sleeping face skeptically,
someone
would have to.

He ascended the stairs, and once he entered the bedroom he locked eyes with the big black dog who was wagging the entire back half of his body in ecstatic joy and whining softly. Tasmin hesitated for a moment, then decided he might as well try to communicate what he wanted to the dog. It couldn’t hurt.

She needs her rest. I’ll… do whatever needs to be done for you.

Grimm stilled instantly and cocked his head. Tasmin didn’t know whether the dog understood, but it seemed to calm him. He waited patiently while Tasmin tucked Bailey into bed.

Tasmin left her clothes on her—changing her was a bridge he wouldn’t cross. Instead, he removed her shoes before he pulled the thick comforter over her, remembering how warm and comfortable it had been beside her. The woman was a refuge from everything bad in the world. It seemed unnatural and unfair that the darkness that followed him had reached out to touch her the way it had.

He tucked the blanket around her neck, brushing her hair to the side and watching the slow, steady pulse in her neck. She seemed fine. He wasn’t going to be if he didn’t find another object to focus on. Tasmin swallowed hard and looked at the collection of books on her nightstand, running his tongue over the points of his elongated incisors.

He needed to feed. Soon, before he saw her awake again.

The thought of hunting more deer made him cringe, but he would do it. No humans. Not while he couldn’t trust himself to keep control in his hunger.

With a great deal of effort, he turned away, then crouched to let Grimm out of his crate. Though the dog looked longingly at Bailey’s sleeping figure, he surprised Tasmin by seeming to understand what Tasmin had tried to tell him. Of course, that also meant receiving whatever big, slobbery affection had been reserved for her.

Tasmin found himself with armloads of dog, locked into a shaggy embrace. He chuckled, despite himself, and gave Grimm a quick squeeze in return. That earned him a facial tongue bath that came on so quickly he barely had time to get his eyes and mouth shut.

“Come on, come on,” he finally whispered, disentangling
himself. When the dog seemed not to want to take a breather, Tasmin recalled something Bailey had said and grinned as he stood.

“Breakfast?” he asked. Instantly Grimm was at attention, his regal bear’s face alight with intense interest. Tasmin rolled his eyes, but it was affectionate as the dog bolted for the stairs, descending them in a series of thuds only slightly more quiet than what an elephant might produce. Bailey didn’t stir.

Tasmin started for the door, then turned back quickly before he could think better of it. For a few blissful moments, he could pretend this was his home, his woman, and all of the outside world was unconcerned with him. He could just be what he had never had a chance to be—a normal man.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, eliciting a soft sigh that made him want to crawl in with her, curl himself around her and pretend that they were the only two people on earth.

Instead, he forced himself to turn away and leave the room, shutting the door behind him.

He would care for the dog. He would keep watch for a time. And maybe, if he was lucky, he would figure out how he was ever going to leave here without leaving the better part of himself, the part he’d thought had died in that cave, behind.

A
T LEAST THIS TIME
her alarm had awakened her.

Bay managed to make it through the day, fueled by nothing but coffee and determination. But after grooming a Lhasa, two poodles, a Bernese mountain dog, and several cute but hyperactive mutts, she was ready to go home and collapse face-first on the nearest available soft surface. She was so, so done.

Seeing bad guy vamps ripped up by a lion hadn’t defeated her.

Being threatened, and then saved, by the same lion hadn’t turned her brain into mush by trying to wrap itself around the situation—though that was probably because she refused to think about it. Much like the ripping up of the bad vamps.

What was doing her in, finally, was just sheer exhaustion. And not thinking about
that
did her no good. Her body had its own ideas.

It was dark when she locked up the shop and said good
night to Shelby and Anna. The three of them chattered on the way to the small parking lot behind the building, then went their separate ways as each climbed into her own car. Bay opened the hatchback and unfolded the portable ramp she used to allow Grimm to climb in more easily. He went, though not without the enticement of the treat he knew would be in her pocket.

Once he was in, Bay stuffed the treat into Grimm’s waiting jowls and closed the hatch. The air felt heavy tonight, and though the snow in the forecast hadn’t yet materialized, she had a feeling it would before long. Her breath fogged in front of her as she made her way around the SUV and climbed in. She rubbed her gloved hands together after starting the engine, hoping it heated up quickly.

Bay turned on the radio and pulled out, singing along with Jon Bon Jovi while he belted out an old song about a girl who gave love a bad name. Her mom had always had a thing for ’80s hair bands, and had passed on the love of the songs, if not the men with big hair and spandex pants, to her daughter. Bay smiled at the thought of Marisa Harper rocking out on one of their many car trips. She missed her… but she was glad her parents were safe at their house in Florida these days. Singing along with the tune solo would work just fine to keep her up until she got home.

When Bay passed the lights of Lily’s house, glittering back behind the wrought iron fence and trees, she had a brief, intense impulse to pull on in and see how everything was. “Everything” meaning a certain golden-eyed lion-shifter. But she was too damned tired, and too determined not to go all needy stalker on him, to give in. Besides, when she saw Tasmin again, she wanted to be ready. She had questions. And some serious concerns. And…

And she was pretty sure he’d looked after her this morning before she’d gotten up. Grimm had been happy and fed, she’d been cozily tucked into bed minus her shoes, and her house had smelled faintly of sandalwood.

Maybe it wasn’t an awful idea to be alone with him like that. No, no, it was, Bay told herself, tightening her hands on the wheel and turning away from the mansion. Just
how
bad an idea was something only he could answer… and that was an answer she planned to demand the next time she laid eyes on him.