The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance)) (24 page)

Ridiculous, nothing there. Stop being silly.
She was just nervous at the prospect of seeing Cian. That was all. Threads of the dream still unnerving her obviously. Not a good day for her. Conspiracy theories would abound if she wasn’t careful.

He gave her one last squeeze then dropped his hands. “You take care there, Eve.” And then he walked on, tugging ever so slightly on the cat leash in his grip.

Samhain gave a small meow before finally deciding to follow.

She frowned, turning to stare at Mr. Lovelace’s retreating figure heading into his apartment and shrugged the odd moment aside. There were other more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Like getting to Cian’s posthaste. With that thought in mind she raced outside to find a cab and head toward Baker’s Street.

***

She threw some bills at the cabby and got out, staring at the brick faced Victorian home with wide-eyed wonder.

“He lives here?” She could hardly believe it.

It was beautiful. Classic.

Two story home in the gothic style. Filigree black railing circled the top of the house. Stone gargoyles facing the street and sitting on the porch, their mouths open in a wide ‘o’, brows lowered and faces twisted into a glower. She shivered and rubbed her hands down her arms. Just the type of place she’d imagine a vampire living in. A wild storm, jagged lightning piercing the sky against a black backdrop was the only thing missing to make this place really have that creepy, perfect vibe.

She glanced up and down the block. Pink and yellow azalea bushes lined the steep sidewalk. Elms, maples, oaks and a variety of other trees littered the area. This was so different from the norm. San Francisco was pretty much one house, or shop on top of another as far as the distant horizon. Baker Street was suburbia in the big city. Strange that in all her years she’d never been down this way. It really was beautiful. 

This had to be one of the ritziest neighborhoods. Definitely not the richest, but certainly elite. She bit her lip, adjusting her top with nervous fingers and walked forward. Now that she was here she wasn’t exactly sure what to say. This was going to look really weird no matter how she approached it.

Eve walked up to the door, hand poised and ready to knock. She didn’t see any lights on.
He’s probably not even here.

“No chickening out,” she whispered.

At the least he deserved an explanation for yesterday.

Taking a deep breath she shook her hands and shoulders, psyching herself up. “Okay, okay. I can do this. I am woman, hear me roar.”

Oh, that was really stupid.

She ran cold fingers over her face and nodded. Nerves twisted her gut in knots and threatened to make her sick. “Okay. One. Two. Thre...”

The door flew open and she yelped, startled to see Cian headed out.

His blue gaze widened then narrowed. He looked from side to side and frowned. “Eve?”

Words left her. She was drawing such a serious blank it was a crime. Her hand was still fisted and poised to knock. She slowly brought it back down to her side.

This was mortifying in the extreme. Not the entrance she’d hoped to make, that was for sure.

“What are you doing here?”

She gave a crooked grin. Now was as good a time as any to reassert herself, straightening her back she decided to face this head on rather than become the cowardly mouse. “I came to find you, Cian.”

He lifted a brow, confusion glittering in his eyes.

She took that moment to study him. Goddess but he looked good. White button down shirt tapering to his broad chest, blue jeans fitting snug on his thighs. Not too tight to reveal the package, but definitely enough to outline the smooth, firm muscle of his legs. That dark hair and blue eyes. Perfection.

Yeowza!

He stepped back, ushering with his arm for her to enter. He still looked as confused as ever, but at least he was gentleman enough not to let her flounder on the stoop forever. The man was classy, had to give him that.

He walked toward the kitchen area. Her eyes widened the deeper they went into the house. Polished, hardwood floor. Bear skin rugs, boulder style fireplace in the living room. Leather furniture of the deepest brown, mahogany entertainment center. Plasma screen TV on the wall. Loaded did not even begin to describe this house. It was a bachelor’s paradise.

The kitchen was gorgeous. Same polished floors, but all the electrical appliances were futuristic silver, stove, fridge, even the toaster. The countertops were a black marble.

“Take a seat,” he pointed to the breakfast nook. She slid into the diner style table.

“Want something to drink?” he asked and turned toward the refrigerator, opening the door.

He was humming with curiosity. It was obvious in the tense lines of his shoulders.

“Got O.J.?” She shrugged.

“I think so.” He reached in.

From out of nowhere lancing spikes of pain arced down her skull. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut as fire raced through her body.

Same thing that had happened the other day was happening again and this time returning with a vengeance. Eve winced, pressing her fingertips to her temples. It was like somebody was pressing her head together. Pressure was building. Tears filled her eyes. This headache was worse. Much worse.

Like breaking a leg, puncturing a lung and finding out you had cancer all at the same time, worse.

“Eve!” Cian grabbed her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

The timbre of his words echoed in her head like the gong of bells. Her limbs were turning sluggish, fog crept over her vision and then there was black.

***

Cian kept applying a wet towel to her forehead. The slithering madness inside him had snapped seeing her slump in her seat. Fear bubbled through his veins.

He still trembled from the aftereffects of so much psychic energy being blasted at him. It had been so powerful he’d dropped to his knees in agony and could still taste the adrenaline on his tongue. The incessant pounding in his skull was nothing compared to the fire stabbing through his brain earlier. Once she’d passed out all the symptoms had faded, still, it scared him.

He glanced at her, his heart in his throat. She was pale white, her lips a light shade of blue. It was like the mark of death, but her pulse was strong. He couldn’t make sense of it.

Had she been suffering with those long? He ran a worried hand across her brow. She wasn’t feverish.

A healthy glow was settling back into her cheeks. He closed his eyes, his nerves unsteady and his hands shaking. Relief was a soothing balm to his tormented mind.

Gently he picked her up and walked her to the guest bedroom, which thankfully, had a bed. He adjusted the pillows. Long black hair fell like shadow against the cream pillowcase.

“Lass, can you hear me?” he asked in a soothing, rocking tone. He framed her face in his hands, searching her for any sign that she was coming to.

A muscle in her cheek twitched.

“Wake up. Come on.”

She moaned.

“Eve.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his whiskered cheek, expelling a long breath.

Her lashes fluttered and then slowly she opened her eyes. The golden depths bright with unshed tears. “What the hell happened to me?” she croaked.

“You passed out.”

She wrinkled her brows. “What? When?”

“Don’t you remember? Just a second ago.” At her blank stare he rushed on. “Eve, you were projecting so hard I nearly joined you.”

She sat up, bringing a hand to her forehead.

“I’m not sure moving is the best thing for you right now.” He hugged her around the waist, trying to draw her back down.

“Cian, I don’t know what just happened, but I feel fine now.”

He frowned. “How is this possible? Don’t you remember the headache in the kitchen just a second ago?” Surely she couldn’t have forgotten that.

She gave him a weak smile and pushed her hand against his chest, freeing herself to sit up. “I ah...” Her gaze shifted around the room, confusion settling like a mask on her features. Exhaling sharply, she looked to him. “Last thing I remember is you asking me what kind of drink I’d like and then it’s pretty much blank from there to here.”

Narrowing his eyes he studied her. Was she lying? Would she even have a reason to? But there was no denying the honesty in her golden gaze. She really didn’t remember.

This wasn’t normal. People didn’t go from near death to looking perfectly healthy and fine the next. “How do you feel now?”

She shrugged; a crooked grin on her face. “I feel fine. Never better actually. Little confused to be honest, but otherwise...”

He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to stare at him. Being death had its advantages. Knowing what afflicted a spirit for one. Be it human, plant, or otherwise. All he’d have to do was pass someone on the street and he’d know immediately if they suffered a life threatening disease. A physical manifestation of the malady would present itself. The low throb of cancer eating away at organs, or the rush of HIV through blood.

The sharp pains Eve had just experienced made him scared that it could be a tumor, something pressing against her skull. All the symptoms fit.

Heart hammering in his chest he lifted a gloved hand and ran it along her head, feeling not for the hair beneath, but the gentle hum of disease. He could hardly swallow around the lump in his throat.

Nothing.

No hum. No betraying vibration. Silence.

His nostrils flared, even more confused than ever before. With the exception of what just happened, Eve was as healthy as an immortal. No mortal sickness lay waste to her body. 

Her eyes were like wide saucers in her face. “Cian, what are you doing?”

He dropped his hands. “I feel like I should take you to the hospital.”

She gave a tiny shake of her head. “I really feel fine, I doubt they’d find anything. I mean--” she threw out her arms, “do I look sick?”

“No. But...” He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right, but neither could he put a finger on just what that something might be. For the first time in a long time he felt helpless. Not a feeling he relished where Eve’s safety was concerned. “Has this ever happened before?”

“Seeing as how I don’t even remember
this
ever happening, I can honestly say, no.” She bit her lip, a sultry gleam filling her eyes. “You’re cute when you do that.”

Her words were so unexpected he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Warmth shot through him at her words. “What?”

“That. Worrying about me the way you do. It’s cute.” She smiled that crooked smile of hers.

He really wanted to get to the bottom of whatever that was, but she seemed fine and reluctant to keep talking about it. What else was there for him to do than move on? Obviously she was fine, maybe it was some quirk of the witch he was unaware of. So he took a deep breath and tried not to think about how his heart had nearly stopped in its tracks.

Cian stood and walked to the door. “Yes, well. What can I say?”

She lay back down on the bed, pulling a pillow under her cheek and smiling. This tiny woman was lying in the center of a massive bed. But it was the bed that seemed dwarfed by the size of her personality. From the moment she’d entered the house, it was like she shared a part of her soul with the home blotting out the shadows and darkness, filling the space with her light.

He swallowed.

Nothing had ever looked so right or made him feel so warm.

“I guess, umm...” She gazed at him, a question in her eyes. Whether he wanted her to stay or go.

“Orange juice, right?”

That endearing smile lit her features again, erasing the strain from her brows. She nodded and he turned to get it.

The reasons for her coming and how she’d found him in the first place crowded his thoughts with each footstep.

Eve leaned back against the pillows, frowning and thinking. Had she really blacked out the way Cian had said? If so, why couldn’t she remember any of it?

Last thing she recalled was sitting at his kitchen table and then waking up on his bed. She worried her bottom lip. Her thoughts a little fuzzy, lethargy began to creep into her limbs. She hadn’t gotten much sleep today and what she’d gotten had been pure nightmares. Why was it that being around Cian made her feel so safe? Safe enough that all she wanted to do was draw the sheets over her head and fall asleep?  

She shifted and stared out the open bay window, inhaling the fresh sea air wafting through.  

The other morning she’d suffered a terrible headache--nothing serious--it seemed the same had happened again tonight, only this time coupled with a complete lapse in memory. Truth was, she felt A-ok. Aside from the sleepiness that was.

She blew out a breath. How weird that she couldn’t remember. Was he exaggerating what happened? She rubbed her temple. There wasn’t even an aftereffect of lingering pain. If it’d been that bad, shouldn’t she have recalled something?

Footsteps alerted her to Cian’s presence seconds before he entered the room. Worries fled at the sight of him carrying a serving tray with a tall glass of Orange Juice and a plate of toast. All that was missing was the cute little vase with a rose inside it.