Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) (22 page)

“With his patron?”

“He’s the seer champion.”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t know. I was—” She
motioned towards the bathroom. “I didn’t know they started. Logan?
Shit. I’m so sorry, Addison.”

“Don’t be sorry for me.
He’s
the one
who’s going to get killed.”

“Yeah.” She adjusted her necklace. “I gotta
go inside, but maybe we can get together tomorrow.”

Seriously
? Sure, because tomorrow
would be just another day. An entire evening would be
more
than enough time for her to forget all about the death of a friend.
“You’re going to watch it?”

Dawn shrugged. “I have to be there, but my
eyes don’t have to be open.”

Just like always. Every day. They all walked
around with their heads lowered and their eyes closed, pretending
the Heights wasn’t what it was.

She stiffened as Dawn gave her a quick hug.
Then they split up—Dawn walked into the ballroom and Addison fled
from it.

As soon as she was outside, she power walked
in the opposite direction of where she was supposed to meet Rhyse.
She almost tumbled going around the corner of the mansion, but
recovered before she fell, and then ran.

Right into Rhyse’s chest.

“I thought you couldn’t come this close to
the house!” Addison screamed.

“I can go wherever I want.” And had become
quite impatient and a tad concerned she’d gotten herself into
trouble. Which, judging from her demeanor, was not an unreasonable
concern.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.
Why’d you make me come if you planned to pop in yourself? I
could’ve been killed.”

“Yet you were not. What did you learn?”

She stalked away without saying a word.
Stubborn and rude.

“Addison, you will stop walking and speak to
me.”

“Your compelling
never
worked on me
and your bullshit doesn’t work on me
anymore
. I’m going
home.” She grumbled under her breath. A moment later, the pitch of
her voice raised, her breath quickened, and tiny whimpers replaced
her complaints.

“Addison. Stop!” The power of his voice would
have stopped anyone—man, beast, or being. Every creature but her.
“Damn you.” When he phased in two feet in front of her, she slammed
into his chest again, but this time he held on to her. “You will
tell me what happened. Then I will find the being who caused your
distress and punish him for it.”

She slumped into him, her head buried in his
chest, and wept. He stopped breathing entirely, unsure of what to
do. No one had ever cried on him before. He didn’t push her away.
In fact, what he wanted to do was just the opposite—to hold her,
caress her back, wipe away her tears, to take away her sadness.
Taking away someone’s pain was impossible, absurd even to consider,
yet he wanted to try.

“Tell me who did this to you. And tell me
what ‘this’ is.”

When she looked up, she looked terrible—her
eyes red and puffy instead of their normal beauty, her makeup
smeared. All temporary, superficial signs of grief, of something
having changed. Unlike the far more concerning and potentially
permanent changes in him. While the hole in his chest healed, the
rest of him was lost. To her.

He should shove her away and forget they’d
ever met. Forget the horrible little apartment, the bumpy mattress
and coarse sheets, the cow myoglobin and the cheap glass she put to
his lips. Though he could never forgive that pillow.

Ignore the hypnotic scent that clung to
everything, even the clothing he wore now. Her scent. She’d caused
him pain, seen him weak, threatened his life, and yet he would have
her live.

He would have her live by his side.

He wiped away her tears with his thumbs,
demanding that she stop crying because he couldn’t remedy the
problem until he could understand what she was saying. “Can you
speak now?”

“Yes.” But instead of telling him what caused
her grief, she told him about the task he’d set for her, putting
him before herself. Could Rhyse do the same? Obviously he’d never
tried nor even thought of it, but the list of things he respected
and didn’t understand about her grew with each exchange.

“No one took your place,” she said. “Some
vamp named Graham spoke for you. He said you were hurt but would be
better soon. Why would he say that if he tried to kill you? If he
was there, wouldn’t he assume you’re dead and not tell everyone you
were recovering?”

Rhyse enjoyed a brief moment of satisfaction.
It hadn’t been a mistake to trust his marshal. If Graham was at
fault, he would have immediately taken control to stop the leader
of another race from vying to be the Prime.

Unfortunately, this also meant Rhyse was no
closer to discovering who’d attempted to kill him or why. If no
other vampire had come forward…“It was not a vampire. It was
someone from another race.”

“Which one?”

“We will never know the answer to that
question if we remain out here. Shall we go and see what we can
find out? The contest will begin soon.”

She sniffled and ducked her head back into
his chest, but at least the tears didn’t return.

“Tell me who did this to you. Now, Addison.
Tell me who made you feel this way.”

Her explanation came with a large amount of
crying.

“You made friends with an angel?” he asked
once she could no longer speak clearly.

“Kind of.”

“And your friend is the seer champion?”

She nodded.

“It is not within my power to stop the
contest.”

“I know.”

“But it may be within yours.”

“What?”

“I will explain on the way, but no more
crying. It makes conversation almost impossible.”

“Rhyse? After this I go home and you go back
to your throne room,” she said, her steps slowing. Was that what
this was about? She would miss him. It was an odd thing to be
missed, not one he remembered or wanted or even cared about, but it
made him content. It was hugely misplaced, of course—she wasn’t
going
anywhere
without him again. Reason and logic were both
moot now. She was his, and he would protect her from everything,
including his own better judgment.

“We will discuss that after we discuss the
other
matter.”

“You mean the dat—”

He covered her mouth. “Do not ever speak the
name. No one must know, or I will not be able to keep you
safe.”

“How can you keep me safe?” she mumbled
through his hand.

“I did not become the Prime because of the
way I dress, Addison.” When her steps slowed, Rhyse took her hand
and pulled her along. She tugged against his grip as if she could
actually get away. “Once you are identified as mine, no one will
come near you. And thus, no one will bother you.”

“I’m not yours.”

He laughed. “You have been mine since the
moment I opened my eyes and saw you.”

“I hope that wasn’t supposed to be romantic.
Because it wasn’t even close. You need to look someone in the eye
when you say shit like that, not throw it over your shoulder while
you’re dragging her back into a deathtrap.”

He spun around, letting her bounce into him,
then catching her and holding her still. “I am inexperienced with
romance. It has never been necessary.”

She looked panicked, but didn’t pull away.
“Well, then—”

“You are mine because I will never accept
otherwise, and I will remind you of it until you realize its
truth.” He kept his voice low, intimate, as he would speak to her
in bed. “Because—although I have not touched you in the way I
desire—to even imagine you with another is to shove another stake
in my chest. But this time it would land true, or you would not be
there to save me.”

They pulled from the same inch of air. With
only a tiny movement, he could take her mouth. But he wouldn’t
take—he would force himself to wait until
she
did. And then he would give her everything.

“I owe you my life, Addison, and I would give
you my life in the only way I know how. By protecting you from
anything that threatens you, anything that upsets you, anything you
find unpleasant or dull or ugly. By giving you pleasure until you
are so sated you beg me to stop. By making your life easier,
better, more peaceful or exciting or, yes, even romantic. I will
learn your needs just as I will learn your body.”

He saw her gaze dance between his eyes and
lips, felt her body shudder, sensed the increased speed of her
heart and her breath. “You are mine, Addison. Whether you know it
yet or not.”

“Well, okay then…” She swallowed. “That was a
lot better.”

He enjoyed her for another moment before
refocusing on the task ahead. It would not be without danger,
especially if she were to wander outside of his reach. “It is very
important that you act as my diversion, do you understand?” He
leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Which means anything I say
or tell you to do is only to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t want to miss a chance to
talk dirty, right? Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“When I talk dirty to you, I will tell you
exactly what I want. While I am inside you. And you will beg for
more.”

Addison followed Rhyse into the darkness, so
he could explain the plan to her. Because evidently, she had to do
all the work.

Since demons couldn’t escape a pentagram, the
only way they could pass through was if someone else broke the
line. So Rhyse’s clumsy toy—right, ‘diversion’—would ‘accidentally’
pour wine over the line and wash away the salt. When he angrily—and
rudely, but she shouldn’t take it personally—ordered her to
retrieve it, she would spill more at a different point. It didn’t
matter how far apart the breaks were, the magic would be lost and
the demon would sense it immediately.

“The demon will be competing for his master,
not himself,” he said. “Though all demons are ruthless and cheating
loners, their master is the worst. Therefore, the demon he sends to
the contest will not be the strongest. He will be the most violent
and volatile, from one of the lower levels of hell. When the line
is broken and freedom is in his grasp, he will be unable to
resist.”

“And then all we have is an escaped demon.
How does that help?”

“Because he will try to kill us.”

She paused, searching for a reason why Rhyse
would think having a demon try to kill them was a good thing. Nope,
she couldn’t think of a single thing. ”Maybe we should think of a
plan B.”
And C.

“Before the demon kills us, the champions and
others will come to our aid. The contest becomes invalid as soon as
three competitors step out of the pentagram.”

“And if they don’t move fast enough?”

“Do you have such little faith in me,
Addison? I can defeat one measly demon.”

She’d just make sure to be cowering behind
him. “What happens to the competitors and the trophy?”

“The champions are freed from obligation. I
am not certain what happens to the magic. The contest has never
been stopped before.”

“Great.”

“It is a way to save your…friends. However,
if you choose not to accept my help, it means nothing to me.”

Liar. He wouldn’t be doing this if it meant
nothing to him. If
she
meant nothing to him. Oh powers, that
was terrifying.

Addison expected a bit of shock when Rhyse
walked through the door, but this was just weird. Like a fire
burning through a field of wet grass by its dry roots without ever
igniting, Rhyse’s name spread in whispers until those in the
pentagram heard it. Except it wasn’t actually his name—it was a
whole bunch of different kiss-assy names Rhyse probably loved.

Rhyse stood in the doorway and waited for the
crowd to part. Addison stayed back and to the side, as a proper
little toy would. Parker’s mouth hung open until Addison caught her
eye. She couldn’t read Micah’s expression. It wasn’t surprise or
wonder or happiness, but it was all three jumbled together somehow.
Then she saw Logan. He didn’t see her, though, because his head was
still lowered, already defeated. The vamps all bowed their heads
too, with Graham’s bow the deepest.

Rhyse walked slowly, sparing a glance for no
one. The only thing he said was, “Come along.” She assumed he meant
her and while she wanted to tell him to go to hell, now was not the
time or the place. How would she stop the contest if she was busy
being filleted alive? So despite the fact that he was enjoying this
a bit too much, she followed dutifully.

As soon as he snapped his fingers and pointed
to his side, she tasted blood. When she caught up, he laughed
quietly. “So obedient now. I find it quite erotic and would like to
see it again. But I am not walking a dog, Addison. You may stand at
my side like the other seers are doing with their patrons.”

Patrons. How was a disposal tech supposed to
know proper toy etiquette? She took a few quick, nervous steps for
every one of his long, confident ones, stopping in front of the
pentagram when he did.

“My lord,” Graham said. “I will meet the sun
with regret in my heart. Regret for my failure when—”

“Enough, Graham. There will be no sun in your
near future. There will, however, be a great deal of
discourse.”

“Anything, sire.” Graham remained bent at the
waist, looking at the floor. No wonder Rhyse wasn’t happy at
Addison’s place—she hadn’t even groveled once.

Rhyse didn’t enter the pentagram. Instead, he
led her towards a small, raised podium with only one chair.
Hopefully he didn’t expect her to sit on the ground, because she’d
never, ever be able to get back up with this dress on.

When they came to a female vampire, Rhyse
stopped and leaned towards her. “Tempest, she is mine”—he motioned
to Addison—“her body and her mind. Under no circumstances will you
attempt to read her. Do you understand?”