Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) (82 page)

It becomes apparent as he tugs on my bottom lip that he is not going to stop until I respond to his kiss
.
Tentatively,
I kiss him back,
but passion quickly ignites between us.
I
feel him smile
before he
leans away
from me.
“Ye’
ll
kill, but ye’ll na be killin’
for me. Ye’
ll be killin’
ta survive.
’
Tis da only way
dat
ye will. Ye’
re in the middle, do ye not see dat? Do ye
na see where dis is headed? Da
aingeals
will tear ye apart in deir struggle to own ye.
”

My eyes narrow, “That’
s what you’
re doing!
”

“’
Tis,
”
Brennus admits,
“
but I do it because I love ye. Dey do it because
dey want ta crush ye.”
H
e
lets go of me completely before he
glances
down at the exquisite wat
ch on his wrist. H
e shakes
his head. “
Ye’
ve almost no time left. Yer
aingeal
grows weake
r
by da
moment
. H
e may na last much longer.”

“Then…
he’s alive,” I breathe
with a sick sort of relief.

“He is…
deliciously so,” Brennus replies
and I bla
nche
, knowing that
Brennus
has been feeding on Reed
.

“What are y
our plans for Reed?” I ask
with a painful contraction of my heart.

“I’l
l allow ye ta turn him…
he’
ll be an excellent bodyguard for me queen…jus as long as he understands dat he can never, ever
touch ye again. If he does, I’
ll ma
ke ye end him,” Brennus promises me.

I clo
se my eyes against him and turn
my head away.
“And
,
if I don’t come
to you?
” I ask
with a hitch in my voice.

“
Den, I’
ll turn him
me
self and we’
ll hunt ye together,”
Brennus replies
.

He leans
forward, pressing his cold lips to mine, kissing
me with a passion that he no longer has the power to
restrain. When he raises his head from me, he smiles
down into my eyes.

“You’re getting los
t in me again, Brennus,” I say
as a warning.

“I’ll na be satisfied ‘til I’
m buried in ye,” Brennus replies
, rising from the bed. “Pla
ytime wi’ ye is over. Bring me da o
ther or I’
ll make yer
a
ingeal
undead and he
will hunt ye ta da
ends of da earth
for me
.”

Nearing
the
regulator clock
resting on the antique table near the win
dow, Brennus opens
its glass face.
Without
preamble, he distorts
in a swirling jumble of flesh, being sucked through the portal with the alacrity of a seasoned traveler.

Other figurines
on
the table tremble
and flip
up, being consumed as the rest of
the items in the room begi
n to distort, too. But then,
just as abruptly as it occurs, it ends, indicating that Brennus has
made it through and
cl
osed the portal at the other side
.

Immediately, I begi
n to cry again, but softly, heartbrokenly.
It’
s over
, I th
ink
.
I can’
t betray Ru
ssell
,
so I can’t save Reed. Brennus wil
l make Reed hunt me and then, I’
ll let him
kill me.
I sniffle
loudly, while
I cry harder
.

A small
creak
, coming from the
hinge of the door connecting
t
he bathroom to the suite sounds
.
Glancing to
it, I recognize
the dark-haired Throne leaning negligently against the doorframe.
Anya’s musical voice penetrates the gloom as she says
briskl
y
,
“
Russell was
correct:
Brennus
is an evil a-hole.
If you promise to help me kill him, I’ll untie you.”

Old Is
N
ew

“Anya!” I breathe
, seeing her toss her sleek, black ponytail
behind her shoulder. Anya walks
swiftly from the doorway of the bathroom to
the
elega
nt, four-poster bed. She carries
in her hand a glass of water, which she set
s
on the beautiful, bedside table. Her emerald-col
or
ed
eyes study
me appraisingly
before she sweeps
my hair back from my face.

“Shh…” she says
with her finger to her lips, glancing over her shoulder t
o the door behind her. She moves
from me to the window nea
r the clock. Quickly, she opens
it, waving her hands to try to ventilat
e the room. “Paah,” she wrinkles her nose at me and mak
e
s
a cringing f
ace. “He stinks!” Anya whispers
accusingly, speaking of the sweet, sticky scent Brennus left behind in the room.

When she notices
the regulator cloc
k on the table near her, she sti
ck
s
her elbow out sharply, kno
cking it over. The clock crashes
to the floor, smashing its glass face and scattering the gears and cogs onto the expensive rug. The
door to the sitting room crashes
open and fo
ur Dominion Power angels prowl in with swords drawn. One goes
directly to the bathroom, inspecting it quickly while the ot
hers fan
o
ut, opening closets and windows.

Anya speaks
in Angel to the tall Power with the l
ight-gray wings. Her face looks conciliatory as she gestures
to the cloc
k with a shrug. The Power looks
suspiciously around, seeing me tied up and tousled on Brennus’ h
uge bed. With a frown, he turns
back to Anya, speaki
ng to her in Angel. She shrugs again, speaking
while approaching me to sit by my side. Picking up the glass of water f
rom the bedside table, Anya holds
it to my lips, helping me take a
sip of it. When I’ve had half the glass, she pulls
it back from me, replacing it on the table.

The same Dominion Power edges
closer to me, lifting the discard
ed scarf from the bed. He hands it to Anya. Gently, she
pushes
it back in my mouth, t
ying it loosely at t
he back of my neck. When she’
s done, she smiles demurely to the Power who is
inching closer to her, his eyes drink
ing in every curve of her in her black, body armor
. He speaks again, this time with
a
flirty little smile. She smiles
back, responding in kind to whatever it w
as that he said. The Power
fro
m the bathroom playfully slaps
his partner on the chest, shoving him toward
s
the door to
the sitting room. They exchange
some kind of banter in musical tones. With a fleeting glan
ce at Anya, the last Power
exits
the room, closing the door behind him.

“Powers,” Anya sighs,
looking at the closed door. “They’ve
been here too long
.
”

Glancing back at me, she unties
the gag in my m
outh, removing it. Then she bends
close to me, staring into my eyes. “If I trust in you, do you promise to hel
p me kill Brennus?” she asks with a frown. Before I can answer her, she adds
, “I want to know if you’re willing to reach into his chest and rip his icy heart from it. Anything less than that and I’m leaving you here and I’ll take care of him myself.”

“I promise,” I whisper
hoarsely, staring back at her.

“Good,” she says
with a decisive
nod. Quickly, she begins
t
o untie
the rope binding my wrists.

Lying on my side, I ask
, “Where’s Russell?”

“Gone,” she replies absently,
concentrating her attention on the intricate knot.

“Ru
ssell left without you?” I ask
incredulously.

“Not exactly,” she replies
.

“I don’t understand,” I say
. “Is he here or isn’t he?”

“He’s gone, but he didn
’t leave willingly,” she replies
in a low tone. “It took Xavier, Cole, and more than twenty angels to get him to leave, but in the end, it was Zee that pulled Russell with him into a portal.”

“Why didn’t
you go with him, Anya,” I ask
her in a raspy voice. “He loves you.”

Her hand stills
for a moment. “I wasn’t r
eady to leave yet
.
”

“Aww,” I groan
, “he’s probably freaking out that
you’re still here!” I whisper
, exasperated.

“The bad freaking out or t
he good freaking out?” she asks
with a flat voice.

“The bad freaking out! V
ery, very, bad freaking
out
,” I say
with a frown. “He’s insane about you. He was pushing you away because he was afraid of losing you. He told me how he feels when he’s around you.”

Anya’s hands still
again. “How
does he feel?” she murmurs
.

“H
e…he has those butterfly things—
and don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about because I kno
w you have them, too,” I reply
, frustrated now because Russell will never forgive me if I let something happen to Anya.

Anya continues untying the knot
,
whispering, “That is attraction—
not love. You did not hear the things he said to me before he left.”

My heart si
nk
s. “What did he say?” I ask
.

“He demanded that I go with him…he said that my ‘bad-assery’ is goi
ng to get me killed.” She pauses
fo
r a second, and then asks
, “What is ‘bad-assery
?
’
”

“Uhh,” I think quickly, “it means to act like a bad-ass—
act really brave and cocky.”

“He call
ed me cocky, too,” Anya admits. “What does that mean?”

“It means arrogant,” I mutter, adding, “b
ut,
that’s a good thing around here—
no one respects you unless you have an edge.”

“Then wha
t does moron mean?” she inquires
.

I cringe
, prefaci
ng, “He calls me that sometimes—
”

“Moron?” she asks
again between her teeth, realizing it must be bad by my tone.

I whisper
quickly, “Someone who can’t make comm
on sense decisions, but—
”

“Ballsy?” she asks
between her teeth.

“Now that’s a compliment—
someone who take
s risks…is courageous…” I sigh
.

“Wickeddamnsexy?” she asks
in an intense whisper.