Tempting Danger (27 page)

“But if he won’t give himself over to Her, how can we do that?”

Oh, yes, Cullen thought. The Patrick person was better at it than she was, but this conversation had been choreographed. They were leading him somewhere.

“We make sure he has every reason to please us. First, by giving him some of what he wants. Second, by making it impossible for him to survive without us. Cullen, you said you would kill for me.”

“That’s right.”

“You would kill strangers? People you’ve never met?”

“If the price was right.” His stomach knotted as he thought of one conversation he’d overheard.

“You would be paid in knowledge. I don’t share power.”

No kidding. “And perhaps better quarters.”

“Perhaps.” She was amused again. “What if I asked you to kill in wolf form? In such a way that it would be obvious a lupus had done it?”

That surprised him. He let it show. “You don’t want me to work magic for you?”

“Perhaps later, when you are bound more fully to us. Which you will be, once you have killed in wolf form. We will use you to destroy—”

“Helen!”

Patrick’s protest sounded genuine, not planned. Interesting.

“We must tell him our goal, Patrick. He’s bright enough to figure things out on his own. Better he knows now what he’s agreeing to.”

A pause. “You’re right, as usual, Madonna.”

“Cullen, you are aware of what I am.”

He nodded. “A telepath, very strong. One of the rarest of the Gifts.” Because of its tendency to drive its possessor crazy.

“Yes. My Gift allows Her to use me. To speak to me and sometimes to act through me.” There was actual feeling in her voice now—a burning undercurrent, the throbbing passion of fanaticism. “She has rewarded me richly, far beyond my deserving, for my service, but the true reward is that contact with Her. I know what She wants, what She dreams of. It is my joy and delight to work to give that to Her, Cullen. But—” the amusement was back—“Her dream may not delight you.”

Sometimes Teacher wants her students to ask questions. “And what is Her dream?”

“The first step is keeping the Species Citizenship Bill from passing, and we are well on the way to achieving that. But that is only the beginning. We will kill a number of people, Cullen. A great number, quite violently, all over the country. They will be lupus kills, and there will be no more talk of tolerance or legal standing for lupi. The American people will demand the extermination of
your
people, Cullen, because that is Her dream. The destruction of the lupi.”

One good thing about lacking eyes. People were used to looking for reactions there, reading your feelings by what they saw in your eyes. Couldn’t do that with him, could they?

“I have no people,” Cullen said.

NINETEEN

MORNING
sun striped the bed, falling in thin slices through the vertical blinds of the single window. Lily’s bedroom wasn’t that much bigger than the cell Rule had paced yesterday, and was almost as empty. Aside from the bed, there was a chest of drawers placed so she could watch the television on top of it. That was it for furnishings, though there was a large, unframed print over the bed—something Oriental, Rule remembered. He couldn’t see it from where he lay.

It wasn’t the light that had woken him, though. It was the seventeen-pound cat sitting on his chest.

“You don’t approve, do you?” Rule murmured. He didn’t make the mistake of moving so much as a finger. Harry was enjoying his dominant position too much. He’d be sure to punish any suggestion of independence on Rule’s part. “You’ll adjust,” he told the cat.

As Rule would have to do, too. There would be huge changes in his life, the shape of which he couldn’t yet see clearly. But there were some perks involved for him. He doubted that Harry saw a brighter side to Rule’s intrusion.

Lily made a sleepy sound and nestled closer.

As a boy, Rule had heard tales of Chosen who’d killed or died for each other. Thrilling tales, heroic and satisfying to a child. But there were cautionary tales, too, of Chosen who couldn’t accept the bond or adapt to the other. Tales of suicide and insanity.

Then there had been Benedict’s example. Rule didn’t know the whole story, but he knew its outcome. He’d seen the shadows cast by wounds that couldn’t heal.

In spite of the grim tales, the Chosen state was celebrated. Rule hadn’t understood that. To be chosen was to be set apart from other lupi. Already, because of his birth and his position in the clan, there was distance between him and the rest. He hadn’t wanted anything that would further separate him. Nor had he wanted any one person to mean so much. What could possibly be worth such a risk?

Lily rolled onto her stomach, poking him in the ribs with her elbow. And his heart turned over.

He understood now. “Lily,” he murmured, “I think Dirty Harry wants to be fed. I’m hoping he has cat food, not fresh meat, in mind.”

“What?” She lifted her head and frowned at him from behind a curtain of tangled hair. “Good Lord. It wasn’t a dream.”

“No.” He started to reach for her, to smooth the hair out of her face. Harry growled. “Ah . . . does he usually sleep with you?”

“He?” She shoved her hair back herself and twisted her head. “Oh.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “Looks particularly evil this morning, doesn’t he?”

“I suspect he’s hoping I’d take the hint and leave.”

“Mmm.”

“Were you,” he asked carefully, “hoping the same thing?”

Her eyes met his. She shook her head but didn’t speak.

“Or wishing last night hadn’t happened?

She took her time responding. “Can’t put the genie back in the bottle. And it would be hard”—at last, slowly, a smile—“if not impossible, to wish away last night. But this morning is complicated.”

Harry decided he’d been left out of the conversation long enough. He stood, stretched, and planted his front feet on Lily’s shoulder, staring at her intently.

She shoved him aside. “All right, Harry. Move it, and I’ll get up.”

The cat jumped down, and Rule thought wistfully about delaying her for thirty minutes or so. But she was right. This morning was indeed complicated.

Lily rolled over and got out of bed. “Come on, Harry. Food for you, a shower for me. And for you”—she looked at Rule—“questions. Some of which I should have asked last night.”

He sighed. “Of course. You always have questions.”

“That’s my approach to most things. The trick is finding the right questions.” She turned, opened the closet, and took out a robe. It was pretty, a bright blue silk, but not as pretty as her skin.

“You have coffee beans?” he asked hopefully, swinging his feet to the floor. “A grinder? I could put some coffee on.”

She disappointed him. “There’s some already ground,” she told him as she stepped into the tiny bathroom. “Coffeepot’s by the stove. Feed Harry, will you?” The door closed. The cat stopped next to it, offended.

He looked at the cat. “I think she wants us to bond, Harry.”

Harry glared and twitched his tail.

“True. But I’ll feed you anyway.”

LILY
took her time in the shower, hoping to wash some clarity into her head. Nothing was right this morning. She ought to concentrate on how to defend herself, she thought as she lathered her hair. But she hadn’t seen the charges against her yet. She was suspended pending charges, but didn’t know exactly what she was up against.

She’d worry about that later, she decided, and rinsed.

Damn Randall, anyway. The sense of betrayal went deep. She ought to be getting ready for work right now. She had leads. She needed to talk to the Azá’s Most Reverend guy. Then there were Ginger and Mech. Ginger had lied about seeing Rule. Mech had been all too eager to frame Rule. They were part of it.

And she wasn’t. The Feds would follow up with Ginger and Mech, not her. At least, she wasn’t supposed to. . . .

When she emerged, she knew Rule had found her coffee. The aroma drew her out of the bedroom as soon as she’d pulled some clothes on. He’d also found her stereo, which she kept on the shelf in the coat closet. And her CDs. Several of them were scattered on the floor.

But he wasn’t playing her music. He was listening to opera on the radio. Standing there totally naked in her living room, listening to a soprano warble through some aria.

“Rule,” Lily said, appalled. “It’s seven-thirty in the morning.”

He cast her an amused glance and turned the volume down. “Not an opera fan, I take it.”

“No.” She frowned at the mess. “Don’t you think you should put some clothes on?”

“If it makes you more comfortable.” He turned to face her. His body expressed its interest at seeing her, and he smiled.

“I need coffee,” she said and retreated to the kitchen. “Where’s Harry?”

“He ate and ran. I hope it was okay to let him out.”

“Can’t keep him in. He lived on the streets too long to be happy with walls twenty-four/seven.” She noticed Harry’s food dish was nearly full. Rule had given him way more than he was supposed to have.

Lily filled a mug with coffee and stayed where she was, sipping. Given the size of her apartment, the kitchen afforded only a semblance of privacy. But she needed that semblance.

It had been a long time since she’d woken up beside a man. Even longer since that man had been here, in her space. She couldn’t decide how she felt about it. Confused, mostly. She liked having him here . . . or maybe that wasn’t her, but the mate bond thing, screwing with her mind.

She’d figure out how she felt later. For now . . . how did this Chosen business work? How could she find out? Even if Rule was being completely honest with her, he might have some of it wrong. It seemed to have religious connotations for him, and religion sometimes kept people from asking the right questions. If you think you already have all the answers, you stop asking.

All Lily had were questions. It was time to go ask some of them. She took a last swallow of coffee went back into the living room.

He’d pulled on his jeans and was replacing the CDs he’d hauled out. Which was good, but—“They’re organized by type, and alphabetical by artist within each type.”

He glanced at her, eyebrows lifted. “Tell me you don’t alphabetize your spices, too.”

“I might, if I cooked.”

He went back to replacing the CDs. “This is going to be a challenge for both of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll understand when you see my apartment.”

She rubbed her chest, where the skin felt oddly tight. That jumpy feeling was back. “You’re making assumptions based on your beliefs. I’m more into evidence than belief.”

“I suppose a cop would be.” He slid the final CD back in place and turned. “I thought you might like opera. You have a lot of classical music.”

“Instrumentals. I played violin at one time.” She caught herself moving toward him, stopped, and scowled. “It’s pulling me, isn’t it? Making me want to touch you.”

“We need to touch, yes.” He came to her and put his hands on her arms. “Is that so terrible?”

“I don’t like being forced. I don’t like having something make me need this.” But when he pulled her to him, she leaned into his embrace, laying her head on his chest.

He was too tall. She’d never liked men who were this much taller than her . . . but his heartbeat steadied her, wiping away the jumpiness, leaving her both calm and revved, ready to go. “It isn’t even sex. I mean—that’s there, but sex isn’t all of it.”

“No.” He ran a hand down her back. “For the first few weeks, especially, we’ll both need the feel of the other, the physical contact.”

“Like an addict needs a fix.” She pulled away. “Well, I’ve had mine for the time being.”

He wasn’t happy. “Have you noticed that there are two of us involved? What if I didn’t get my fix yet?”

“I . . .” What was she supposed to do? Make him suffer—make both of them suffer? But if she gave in, allowed her craving to win, she wouldn’t be
her
anymore. Something else would be driving. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But this isn’t a habit you can kick with some twelve-step program. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

“We’ll see.” God, the jitters were back. As soon as she stopped touching him, they came back. “How far can we be away from each other without having dizzy spells?”

“It varies, but . . . not far,” he admitted. “We won’t always be pulled this hard. Sometimes a Chosen pair can be many miles apart for a time. Not with comfort, but it becomes possible for some. Mating will have tightened the bond for us, though, so for the next few weeks we’ll need to stay close. After that—”

“Wait a minute. You didn’t say anything about sex tightening the bond.” She felt panicky. “You mean it’s worse now?”

“It will be, for a time. Lily, we had no choice. We’re free to choose how we deal with the bond. We aren’t free to refuse it.”

“That’s your belief.”

“It is fact.” He looked as if he wanted to shake her. “If you fight the need too long, you go crazy.”

“
This
is crazy.” She gave in to one need and started pacing. “But I’ll sort it out later.” Her list of things to deal with later was getting longer. “For now,” she added with grim humor, “it looks like you’re going to be a big part of my investigation.”