Sacrifice (Gryphon Series) (24 page)

I fell to my knees heaving and gasping for air. “
No.
It can’t be true.”

He gazed at me with a wry
smile—and blinked. All the confirmation I needed appeared only for a split second … when his left eye turned black. “Our destinies are entwined, little girl. I’ll be seeing you soon.” With that, he vanished in an inky cloud of smoke.

“
Barnabus
… ” I gasped and passed out.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN

“One, two, three, DRINK!”
Bam, bam, bam, bam!

Glasses slammed down
, rattling the table my head was resting on and waking me with a start. I wiped the drool from my cheek and tried to figure out where I was and what the heck happened. Judging by the bar full of rowdy, liquored up cowboys, I had somehow found my way back inside the Purple Cactus. My guess was that the flaxen-haired dude next to me doing shots with random strangers had everything to do with that.

“Aye! The
lass has risen!” Rowan proclaimed a few octaves too loud. Clearly that wasn’t the
first
drink he’d slammed. “Gentlemen, I bid you adieu as I tend to the lady.”

The faces of the three rough and tumble cowboys
went slack, drained of all emotion. Like puppets devoid of independent thought, they rose from the table, pivoted toward the bar, and marched away. Rowan even had the courtesy to plop them down on bar stools before he turned control of their minds back over to the rightful owners.

I said nothing, but shook my head at how
he tiptoed around the moral grey areas of his power. “What happened?” I asked and ran my hands over my face to chase away the lingering grogginess.

“
Well, it seems my ex-boss isn’t as dead as we had hoped. You decided to handle this rather surprising turn of events by taking an impromptu siesta in the parking lot.” Rowan’s cavalier tone failed to hide the strain he felt. His eyes held the panic of a wild, caged animal and his incessant leg shaking caused the glasses on the table to shimmy.

Not that I could blame him.
The news sank in my gut like a weighted anchor. I swiped a napkin off the table and rolled it in my fingers. “A nap seemed mandatory. I mean, it’s not every day you find out that instead of just having
one
army of demons after you … you now have
two
. All systems had to shut down and reboot to process that fun little bit of info.”

Rowan raised his glass to his lips but paused before taking a drink.
“Not sure Barnabus wants ya dead,
Mo Chroi
. Seems to me if he did, you would be. I think whatever he has in mind is much,
much
worse.” He downed the remainder of his frothy beer.

“
I should’ve stayed asleep,” I grumbled and tossed the napkin aside. “Wait! Where’s Sophia? Is she okay?”

Rowan wiped beer foam from his lips with the back of his hand. “Aye. They got her stabilized enough to take her back to the mansion. They were gonna recruit any feathered healers within a 1000 mile dimensional plane radius to come and amp up the wattage on her healing. I’m sure she’ll be right as rain by morning. As for me, I have successfully erased any and all memories of stripping angels from every single person in this bar and we are free to head back whenever you’re ready.”

Back.
I twirled the diamond and emerald ring on my finger and tossed that idea around. I needed to check on Sophia, but she was in more than capable hands—and back meant the return to flowers, dresses, and the big friggin’ festival of love. On top of that I now had the fun task of delivering the terrifying news that Barnabus survived. Nope, not one part of that made me want to return any time soon … if ever.

“Or we could
not
,” I mumbled.

Rowan
rested his elbows on the table, leaned in, and gave me a ‘come hither’ eyebrow wiggle. “What else did you have in mind?”

I rolled my eyes
, but laughed. “Not that. Simmer down, sailor. I’m just … not ready to go back to the real world yet.”

He nudged my shoulder with his
. “Fancy a dance?”

I turned to him with a mock look of shock and surprise.
“Oddly enough ‘mortify self in front of strangers’ was
not
on my to-do list today. So, I’ll pass on the boot scootin’, but thanks.”

Rowan
’s warm breath tickled against my ear as he murmured, “You won’t mortify yourself if you let me guide you. I promise.”

He s
lowly grazed the back of his hand over my bare shoulder. I held back a gasp at the chill that started between my shoulder blades and shot straight up my spine. I was about to mentally flog myself for responding to him like that when I made the connection that his touch had prompted it. What a sneaky and unfair ability.

I scooted to the far edge of my
chair. “No, thanks. I’m not really a fan of this song.”

Rowan wet his lips and tried to suppress a grin
. “Aye. It’s dreadful. Let’s see what we can do about that.” He fixed his gaze across the room at the DJ. “How about if we dig into his secret stash of music?”

The record scratched. Country music stopped and inappropriate
hip-hop pumped through the speakers. Bar patrons booed and pelleted the DJ with peanut shells from the buckets on each table. The poor DJ ducked behind the table out of firing range, wearing a look that was a swirling mix of shock, fear, and absolute mortification.

I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in my chair.
“I have no idea what my ‘azz’ is, but I can guarantee I won’t be ‘backin’ it up’ any time soon.”

Rowan threw his head back and laughed. “
Ah, right. Fair enough. Let’s try another.” Again he tipped his head at the disc jockey. This time the hard-edged voice of Joan Jett filled the room. The cowboys approved enough to stop pelting him with snack foods. “What do you say? Care to admit you hate yourself for lovin’ me?”

Despite my better judgment
, I was actually enjoying myself. “Presumptuous and completely false. Try again.”

Something flashed in his topaz eyes. Pain?
Acceptance of the dare? Whatever it was vanished too quickly for me to know for sure. He peered around the room until his gaze settled on a woman and two gentlemen seated two tables away.

“
There’ll be no resisting this,” Rowan said with a wink and fixed his stare on the trio.

They
rose from their table and strode straight for the stage. The older man with the salt and pepper beard and slender build strapped on the guitar. His lanky friend with the handle bar mustache took a seat at the drums. The stage lights clicked on and the girl stepped up to the mic. Her white cowboy hat with its peacock feather band blocked her face from view as she adjusted the microphone stand. Then, mic in place, she tipped her head up. The light glistened off her cascading platinum locks like sunlight off of fresh fallen snow.

With a slow and steady rhythm the two men bui
lt a beat for her. The blonde’s voice came out a low, throaty melody as she gave a country twang to Tracy Chapman’s
Give Me One Reason.

Rowan
stood up and extended his hand. I peered at it as if it might bite. “I can’t. Sophia was almost killed tonight. Not one, but
two
armies want me dead. Dancing is the absolute last thing I should be doing right now. Not to mention the whole sucking at it element.”

He kept his hand raised
. Its open invitation loomed between us. “Aye, and that is why you must. Once in a while you have to sacrifice what you
should
be doing for what you
want
to do.”

“I
never
want to dance. That’d be like saying I woke up this morning with the burning desire to speak in public whilst naked. Not gonna happen.” I laughed nervously and brushed my hair behind my ear. My hope was that my little joke would end the conversation all together. No such luck.

Rowan
bent down beside me, his lips curled in a smug smile. “This is for your own good, remember that.” He closed his hand around my wrist. His influence instantly removed any hesitation I felt. I argued no further and let him guide me from my chair.

On the
small, scuffed up dance floor he turned and gently placed his hands on my waist. “Just trust me,
Mo Chroi
,” he murmured against my neck.

I somehow managed a forced nod.

To the beat of the soulful lyrics Rowan
showed my body how to move. Slowly at first, my hips began to sway. The rhythm took hold and I churned in perfect time to it. Rowan moved with me, his body answering every question my own dared to ask. His hand wandered down and linked with mine. He drew me to him then twisted my arm behind my back and spun me out. With a little tug he brought me back. His arm swung over my head and caught me around the middle, holding my back tight against his muscular chest.

A
s the raspy-voiced blonde belted out a verse I rocked my hips side to side.

“Now you’re
gettin’ the hang of it,” Rowan muttered with a throaty growl.

I
decided to give myself over to the first fun I’d enjoyed in a long time. I grasped Rowan’s hand and spun away from him. When I glanced back, the desire that darkened his stare stunned me. It made what we were doing wrong—I had enough control over my own senses to know that. Yet there was a part of me that responded to him. For a moment I couldn’t help but wonder what if …

Rowan
yanked me back with just the right amount of force. I slammed against his chest. His eyes were pools of intensity that I allowed myself to wade into. Nothing but a thin veil of energy separated our lips. With one hand he traced his fingers down my waist, over my hip, past my thigh and hooked under my knee. As the song wound to its close he brought my knee up and leaned me back in a deep dip.

Around us bar patrons clapped
but it barely registered as background noise to me. A tumultuous inner battle of desire and guilt devoured me. Rowan and I stared at each other. We searched each other’s faces, willing the other to make a move. Slowly, Rowan bowed his head to mine. I told myself to pull away but … didn’t. Instead I ran my hand around his neck and tangled my fingers in his hair to draw him closer. His breath warmed my face. Electricity sizzled between us, threatening to spark at our touch. Just as his lips brushed mine, I saw a bright red flash out of the corner of my closing eyes. I jerked my head toward it, and searched the crowd for the pale skin and crimson locks of the Countess. While she was nowhere to be seen, reality had just found a way to inject itself into my moment of insanity. The magnitude of what I had almost done slammed into me, the effects far trumping even the iciest of showers.

F
orcefully, I pushed Rowan away and sprinted out the door.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT

              I don’t know what I expected to find outside—maybe a talking unicorn that could fly in on a rainbow and answer all of life’s questions for me—but what I found was sweltering night air so thick its oppressive moisture made me claustrophobic.

             
Rowan burst out the door behind me. “Celeste, wait!

             
I spun on him, fully intending to unleash an onslaught of ugliness even though I knew it would be directed more at me than him. Instead, I spoke the desperate words of my heart. “Take me to the water!”

             
He stopped abruptly a few feet away. His brows drew together in confusion. “What? What water?”

             
My hands trembled as I raked them through my hair. Caleb had never told me where our “special spot” was. But maybe the sea itself could make me feel close enough to him to still the hurricane of emotion raging inside me. “The ocean. Take me there, please?”

             
Rowan gave a resolute nod and closed the distance between us. His fingers laced with mine and my forehead fell against his broad chest. I squeezed my eyes at the disorienting rush that comes with transforming into a churning, rolling cloud of black smoke.

             
I didn’t open them again until the heels of my shoes sank into the sand and salty sea air clung to my skin. I opened my eyes and gasped in crushing disappointment. Calming tranquility could not be found here. Not tonight. An angry wind slammed the waves against the rocky shoreline. From our vantage point on a dune ledge we overlooked the violent spectacle below. White water sprayed up with each assault. Birds seeking a safe place to roost for the night attempted flight, but found themselves at the mercy of the torrential winds. My hair lashed against my face hard enough to make my eyes tear. Somehow all of this seemed fitting. Caleb had been my peace and serenity. This tumultuous display represented my life without him. Violent chaos.

             
I glanced over my shoulder at Rowan. He stared at me expectantly with his hands buried in the pockets of his trousers.