Bittersweet Magic (28 page)

When she came back to herself, he was lapping at the small wound. He caught her gaze. “Thank you.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “It was my pleasure.”

Chapter Eighteen

Roz was dozing, snuggled up against his cool, hard body, when the shrill ring of the phone jolted her awake.

Piers picked it up and listened.

“Your old boyfriend’s here,” he said as he put the phone down.

“Asmodai?”

“Yeah. They’re all waiting for us.”

“Damn.” But they had to get up at some point, and sooner rather than later. Dawn was only a few hours away and presumably, Piers would need to sleep. And there were things to do, people to see.

“Do you have to sleep during the daytime?” she asked.

“No. When I was younger I had no choice; I had to sleep. Now, I can choose, but it’s better if I rest.”

She tried to imagine what it would be like to live in perpetual nighttime. “Do you miss the sunlight?”

“No. I was always a creature of the night, even when I lived.”

She had a lover. A vampire lover.

And she guessed she was in love. She was trying not to think of that aspect too much, in case she scared herself off. It was funny to think that she trusted herself less than she trusted Piers. But she knew what a fucked-up mess she was. And she’d lost too many people she cared about.

But Piers had lived for two thousand years; surely he was a safe bet for a while longer. He could take care of himself.

She glanced down at the small wound on her inner thigh. At least it had stopped bleeding. There was another at her throat. She’d look like a pincushion if they weren’t careful. How often did he have to feed? Would he feed from other people? She wasn’t sure she liked the idea.

She made a mental note to go talk to Tara at some point. She presumed vampires followed the same rules—sort of.

Her glance strayed to her upper arm, where the sigil still showed, like black ink against the pale skin of her arm.

“How well do you know Asmodai?” she asked as she searched the floor for her clothes. Somehow they had become scattered around the room.

Piers was still lying on the bed, amazingly sexy with the sheet just covering his thighs—like some
Playgirl
model. His streaky blond hair was loose about his shoulders. Now he sighed, running a hand through it. “Better than I’d like to,” he answered.

He pulled himself up and off the bed. Roz stopped what she was doing and watched—she couldn’t help herself—as he stalked naked across the floor and opened the wardrobe. He selected a pair of jeans and dragged them on, the soft denim clinging to the long lines of his legs. He rubbed a hand across his bare chest as he considered the contents, then took a blue shirt off the hanger. He pulled it on but left it hanging open. It was the exact same color as his eyes. Had he worn it on purpose because he knew she’d be mesmerized? Maybe the casual clothes were an attempt to appear more approachable, less scary.

He smiled as if he could read her thoughts and flashed her a fang-filled smile. Maybe he didn’t care how scary he was after all.

“You can’t read my mind, can you?” she asked.

“Not your mind, no. But your face—when you don’t attempt to hide what you’re feeling, well, your face can be very expressive.”

“And what’s my expression right now?” She wasn’t sure she was going to like this.

He shrugged. “You want me. And you can have me. But first…”

“First, we’ve got to see a demon.” She tugged her T-shirt over her head and smoothed it down, then found her jeans in the open doorway and pulled them on. Finally, her sneakers, and she was ready to go.

Piers was buttoning his shirt—pity.

…

They didn’t talk as he led the way from his apartment up a couple of floors in the elevator and along the corridor to his office. He could sense the people inside, and he had an almost irrational urge to turn around and go back.

He could still feel the buzz of her blood in his system, taste the unique sweetness of her. She’d opened for him more than he’d expected. He guessed she was feeling vulnerable right now, but who knew how long that would last before she turned back to her prickly self.

But they needed to decide on their next move. Andarta had the Key, and he had no doubt she would use it and would likely move fast. They had already taken enough time out.

What would be the first target? Earth or the Faelands? He was betting Earth, but all the same, he had to organize a meeting with the fae and let them know a demon had the means to open the portals to their world. They weren’t likely to be happy. Totally pissed off, in fact.

He hated dealing with the fae at the best of times. Fucking fairies, with their purity of blood crap that they spouted at every opportunity.

Also, he wanted to get the meeting with Asmodai over with. Then Roz would be free of the demon. As demons went, Asmodai was one of the better guys—at least when he made the effort to be—but he was still a demon and would have his own agenda.

Would he free Roz? And what would he ask in return? Because there was no doubt he would require something. Piers just hoped it was something he was free to give because he was giving it anyway—to hell with the consequences.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“What?” she said, sounding almost like her old belligerent self. No doubt she was prepping herself for the coming meeting.

“Just this.” He leaned down—a long way down—and dropped a quick kiss on her slightly parted lips. “Let’s get this over with.” And he pushed open the door, feeling the rush of power from inside shiver across his skin. Too much power.

Christian was leaning against the far wall, Tara beside him. Across the room, Asmodai sat on the sofa—in his human guise—but he wasn’t fooling anybody. He watched Tara, a hungry, hopeful expression on his dark face.

Graham stood on the far side of the room, as far from the demon as he could get. Beside him, Carl leaned against the wall, and next to him was Roz’s policeman—Detective Ryan—with a slightly dazed expression on his face.

Roz ignored the demon and crossed to Ryan. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine—I think. What is this place? No one would tell me anything.”

“We have to decide what we’re going to do with you first,” Piers said, coming to stand beside her. He rested an arm across her shoulder. He hadn’t worked out what the relationship was between the two of them yet, but he wanted the policeman to know the score. Roz didn’t pull away, which pleased him.

“Shit, are you two a couple?” Ryan looked between them, his gaze lingering on the arm across her shoulders. Piers gave it a squeeze and stared the detective in the eye. He felt Roz stiffen.

“Cut the macho shit,” she growled, and he had to bite back his smile.

“Answer the question, Rosamund.” Asmodai’s voice came from behind them, low and dark, and energy rippled through the room. A palpable shiver ran across her skin, and Piers tightened his hold. “Are the two of you a couple?”

Piers released her shoulder and swung around. “What’s it to you?”

“She belongs to me,”

“Not for much longer.”

“And how do you work that out? I don’t see my Key anywhere—I’m presuming Andarta has it?”

“Yeah,” Roz replied.

“So the debt is not paid.”

“Why did you ask her to steal it anyway?” Christian asked.

“The Key was mine. Roz wasn’t stealing it, just collecting it for me.”

“I think it’s debatable that the Key is yours.” Piers said. “After all, you did swear an oath to destroy it. But that’s a discussion for another day. For now, tell us why you want it at this point, when it’s been hidden for so long?”

“I never needed it before. Unlike Andarta, I can open portals without the Key…But recently I came up with a use for it.”

“And that would be?”

He glanced at Tara and shrugged. “Does it matter now?”

“Humor me.”

Asmodai leaned back in his seat and stretched. “Is the room still bugged?” he asked Roz.

Bugged.
They’d bugged his office?
When? How? What the fuck had he said?

“I reckon so.” Roz’s gaze flicked to Piers. She bit her lip when she caught sight of his no doubt outraged expression.

“You bugged my office? When the fuck did you bug my office?”

She grinned. “The first time you did that mesmerizy thingy, you know, ‘you are in my power’—not.”

“I can’t believe you bugged my office.” He scrutinized her. “So, did you hear anything interesting?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Thank God for that. Had he discussed her with Christian? What had he said?

“Well, perhaps you could remove it now,” Asmodai said. “I’d prefer there to be no record of this meeting.”

Piers shoved his hands in his pockets and watched as Roz crossed the room and bent down to reach under his desk. She came up with a small black disc. “You want it back?” she asked Asmodai.

“No, destroy it.”

She dropped it to the floor and ground it under her heel.

Piers shook his head. “I can’t believe you bugged my office.”

“Get over it,” she muttered, then grinned. “It was so easy.”

“My mind was on other things.” He leered at her breasts, and she giggled.

“Can we get on?” Christian said and turned to Asmodai. “So talk.”

“I planned to offer the Key to the Walker in exchange for something.”

“Something?” Roz asked.

“My daughter’s cat.”

Tara stepped forward. “Jamie?”

“Yes, Jamie.”

“Her cat?” Roz frowned. “You were swapping the Key for a
cat
?”

Piers took pity on her disbelief. “A while back, the fae wanted Tara dead. We managed to change their minds, but they required a hostage for her good behavior. And Jamie was no ordinary cat.”

“He’s a shape shifter,” Tara said. “And he was my friend.”

“Wow.”

“Anyway,” Asmodai continued, “It occurred to me that the Key in the wrong hands—and I would ensure that the Walker was aware that Andarta was interested—”

“Wait a minute,” Piers interrupted. “Are you saying that you knew Andarta was after the Key?”

“She approached me with a very generous offer. Which I declined. She’s a mad bitch—always was—I’ve no wish to see her gain in power. Anyway, as I was saying, it occurred to me that the Walker would consider Andarta with a key to his kingdom a bigger threat than my daughter, and he would release the hostage he’d taken.”

…

Roz was finding it hard to follow the conversation. Maybe her mind had been befuddled by too much sex. She pressed a finger to her forehead and she tried to make sense of what Asmodai was saying.

“Just wait up here one moment. Am I missing something? You were going to swap the Key for a cat?”

Asmodai glanced toward Tara, then back to her. “I thought it would please my daughter. She’s not too fond of me right now.”

“And this cat was a shape-shifter? Is that like a werewolf?”

“Not really,” Piers replied. “Werewolves are born human and become weres when they are attacked by a werewolf. Shape-shifters are born. They are one of the immortal races, though pretty low down in the pecking order. They are usually tied to some other supernatural being.”

“Jamie was mine,” Asmodai said. “I gave him as a gift to Tara’s mother.”

“And you were going to hand the Key to this Walker guy—”

“Actually no—I was going to offer to destroy the Key in exchange for the shifter.”

“Right. This is the same Walker who’s Tara’s uncle?”

“Yeah. He’s a fae assassin,” Piers said. “And a complete piece of shit. He was going to kill Tara—his own niece.”

He didn’t sound very nice. What sort of person would kill his own flesh and blood? “Why?”

“They’re very into purity of the blood,” Piers said. “Plus, because of her mixed blood, Tara has the ability to move anywhere—the Abyss and the Faelands—and they see that as a threat. The fae are only good for one thing—”

“And what would that be?” Asmodai sounded vaguely amused, and she looked at him. Yup, a smile was curling the corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes were filled with laughter. What was he up to? What else did he know?

“Eating—they taste real good—and that’s it,” Piers said. “And while all the fae are assholes, the Walker’s the biggest asshole of the lot of them.”

Roz thought about it. “Oh right. Well, I can see why he wouldn’t want the Key in the wrong hands. You think he would have gone for it.”

“Oh yes. Plus, I had something else to offer him.”

“You did? What?”

“His daughter.”

The words made no sense. “You have his daughter.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“No.” Piers shook his head and turned to stare at her, a look of horror in his eyes. “No. No. No. Please tell me that what I’m thinking right now is not the truth.”

Asmodai laughed aloud. “It’s almost worth my plans failing just to see the expression on your face, Lamont.”

“Piss off.”

Okay, she might be slow, but she wasn’t stupid. For long minutes, shock held her silent. “This Walker guy is my father?”

“Yes,” Asmodai answered.

“You’re sure? Because my mother never called him the Walker, she called him Finn.”

“Without a shadow of a doubt.”

She reached behind her and fumbled for a chair, stepped back, and sank down before her knees gave out. Everyone in the room was staring at her, with vastly differing expressions. Asmodai appeared amused, as did Christian. Piers looked outraged, but then she had the biggest fae asshole in the world for a father. Did that mean he wouldn’t like her anymore?

Tara’s brows were drawn together as if thinking the whole thing through; then her face cleared and she smiled. “Hey, so your father is my mother’s uncle, which makes us…cousins on my mother’s side, sort of.”

At least the relationship was only on Tara’s mother’s side and Roz wasn’t related to Asmodai—that would have been too creepy.

It was weird; Roz had never even thought about finding her father. Up until recently, she’d presumed he was dead. And since she’d found out that he was actually fae and immortal, she’d been too busy to think about the possibility of him still existing somewhere.