A Soul So Wicked (Moon Chasers) (21 page)

The pink in Erin’s cheeks deepened. “She knocked the gun from my hands and hit me,” she mumbled.

“Look,” Darius said in a gentler voice, moving forward and resting a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t want you hurt. Enough people have already died. Let us take care of this.”

Her expression softened and Tresa suspected it had a bit to do with his hand on her shoulder. She knew the power behind Darius’s touch. The girl was obviously infatuated with him. He either didn’t see it or pretended not to.

Erin inhaled, lifting her prominent chest higher. “All right.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I know you care about me, and I don’t want you distracted by worrying over me. Not while you’re tracking down Megan.”

Tresa swallowed a snort.

“Thank you.” Darius guided Tresa toward the door.

Tresa opened the door and stepped into the hall. When she realized Darius wasn’t with her, she turned around just in time to see Erin wrap her body around him like a second skin. She mashed her mouth to his as if she was starved for the taste of him.

He didn’t seem to be fighting her, and Tresa stalked down the hallway, hating that she could feel so
jealous
.

“Tre!”

She ignored Darius, keeping a steady pace. No running. That would look as though she was hurt and upset. And she wasn’t so foolish as to give him that much power over her. No way.

A hand clamped on her arm and forced her around. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Of course. I have perfectly good hearing,” she said stiffly. “I have excellent vision, too.”

His gaze scanned her face, missing nothing. He motioned behind him. “You’re not upset about that?”

She tried for a light laugh. “What? You swapping spit with some college girl? Why would that upset me? You can do whatever you want with whomever you want.”

He dropped his hand from her arm. “You
think I
wanted
her to kiss me? I just asked you to run away with me!”

And she had said no. A fact she needed to remember.

She crossed her arms and shrugged. “I have no claim on you.”

He pulled back, his expression intense, probing. “So you don’t care. I could go in there and fuck that girl, and you wouldn’t care.”

She winced, but forced a stiff nod.

“Well, I
want
you to care.”

“Don’t say that,” she hissed.

“Too late.” He pounced, his mouth claiming hers. He kissed her long and hard. Her hands came up to cling to his wrists—at first to pull them away, but that thought quickly fled.

She melted into him, relishing his hardness, his strength. She marveled at how she could feel both safe and excited, like she was hanging from the edge of a cliff.

When he tore his lips from hers, she strained forward, chasing his lips, seeking the drugging taste and warmth of him. She felt dazed, lost, staring into the gleam of his eyes.

He smiled down at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “How can you doubt that I care more about you than about some vapid girl with more lip gloss than brains?”

At the sound of a soft gasp, Tresa looked past Darius and saw Erin at the end of the hallway, her expression shattered.

Darius turned as Erin whirled around and raced back into her apartment. The door slammed.

Tresa winced. “Should we—”

“Let her go. We have bigger concerns—the first being Megan Johnson.”

“And if she’s our witch, I think Erin just moved to the top of her list. We’d better stake out Erin’s condo. I doubt she’ll let us camp out in her living room now.”

Darius nodded. “Yeah.”

Tresa headed for the car, tossing up the keys and catching them in her hand. “We’re going to need some coffee.”

T
WENTY-TWO

T
resa wadded up the trash on the floorboard and stuffed it into a wrinkled plastic bag. Finished, she took a sip of her tepid coffee to wash down her last Cheeto. Over the last few hours, she’d eaten her way through Ding Dongs and various types of chips.

Darius shook his head. “How can you eat that stuff?”

“Don’t tell me you miss the food we used to eat?” She made a face as she set her coffee cup in the holder. “I don’t know what I did before preservatives.” Her eyes widened. “Before chocolate. Besides, this is a stakeout. Aren’t we supposed to snack on junk food?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Snack, yes. Binge?”

She winked. “Just don’t let me anywhere near a waffle house. Now,
that
might be the most marvelous invention of modern man.”

He nodded, feigning seriousness. “Yeah.
Forget about the pacemaker, vaccinations and space travel…”

Her expression turned equally serious. “Nothing tops the waffle house.” She held up a hand. “Wait. Except maybe the Slinky.”

He nodded firmly. “Ah. The Slinky. Of course.”

She finally grinned.

Everything inside him lifted, lightening at the glow of that smile. All of him felt touched by it, warmed and comforted. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way. Not even when he was at the monastery and he had people around him who cared. In their own way. As much as his fellow monks could care. That life had been grueling, hard and joyless. This, with Tresa, was the closest he had come to joy.

His cell phone rang, and he glanced down to see who was calling: Helen.

Tresa did her best to look uninterested, but he saw her sneak a glimpse at the caller name.

He answered the phone. “Yes.”

“Darius! Heavens, where are you? Have you looked at the calendar? The moon is waxing.”

Tresa tried to appear interested in the nonexistent activity across the street, but her eyes shifted to him several times.

“I know,” Darius told Helen patiently. He was
always
attuned to the status of the moon.

Helen continued with her concerns, chastising him about not getting home at once, her voice a buzzing gnat in his ear.

Tresa carefully ate a chip, biting off the corners one at a time.

At last Darius erupted. “I’m perfectly aware of how much time I have left. It’s not something I can forget. Don’t worry. I’ll be home in time. I’ll call you when I’m headed back.” He ended the call before Helen could object further.

“Home?” Tresa looked at him, her dark eyebrow lifted in question.

The word from her lips jarred him. Yes. He had a home of sorts. Or at least a home base.

“Believe it or not, yeah. I haven’t spent my entire life chasing you.” He attempted a teasing tone, but missed the mark.

Color stained her cheeks and she laughed brokenly. “Of course not. Just because I never lived anywhere very long doesn’t mean you didn’t put down roots. It doesn’t mean you don’t have someone waiting for you back home…” Her gaze drifted out to the street again, as if she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Wherever that is.” She stuffed another chip in her mouth.

“That was Helen,” he explained. “She’s… my housekeeper, I guess. Seems a bit inadequate to call her that, I suppose.”

She shot him a dubious look. “I see. A housekeeper who calls to check up on you.”

“She’s a worrier. Always has been. She’s been with me for close to forty years now.”

Tresa settled her gaze back on him again. “That long? She’s human?”

“Yes. She’s the grandmother I never had.”

Instantly, her voice softened. “It must be nice… having someone care about where you are. Having someone care, period.”

“I saved her when she was a young woman. A few lycans thought they’d make her their toy for the night. She’s been with me ever since. It’s nice to be around someone who knows what I am and accepts me anyway.”

“Yeah,” Tresa murmured, looking at him in a way that made him uncomfortable—as if he was some kind of hero. If only she knew all the terrible things he had done… things so terrible, nothing he ever did now could make up for them.

“It
is
nice having someone accept you for who you are,” she added.

Meaning she thought he accepted her, even when he shouldn’t. And he did. He had for
some time. Their gazes held for a long moment. Tension crackled between them.

He looked down to the bag of chips crumpled in her lap. “You know, you’re addicted to junk food,” he remarked, needing a break in the spell.

“True.” She shrugged, unbothered. “It’s not as though it’s going to kill me. And I definitely don’t miss cleaning the game Michel used to bring home each day.”

Her husband. A silence fell between them as he wondered about the man she had clearly loved.

She slid him a look before staring back out at Erin’s condo. “Was there ever anyone for you? Before? Or after…”

Before the curse that ruined your life. The curse I created.
She didn’t need to say it; he heard it nonetheless.

“Not too many women at the monastery. And the brothers never permitted females within the walls.” His lips twisted. “After the pack… after that there were women.”

Her smile slipped and he was certain she knew that he was remembering the brutality of those years.

“Do you ever think He remembers us?” she whispered.

Maybe she thought Darius would have an answer because he had been at the monastery, a servant of God. “I don’t know. I guess that’s why I keep trying to break the curse. I can’t ever be the man I once was, but maybe there’s a way to reclaim something of myself. Even just a shred.”

“Do you think… there’s any chance of redemption for us?”

He stroked her cheek with one finger. “You deserve it, Tre.” He knew she had never hoped for it before—never thought that she deserved it.

She gave a small nod. “I feel different now. Changed.” Her gaze locked with his. “You’ve done that. Made me hope.”

He sighed. “I was lost for so long. I did so many evil things… I don’t know if I can be forgiven. But if I regain my mortality, I’ll face whatever is waiting for me. Even if that’s damnation.”

“No.” She covered his hand with hers, pressing it against her cheek. “Just thinking that you…” She shuddered. “I can handle the thought of my damnation, but not yours.”

He inhaled a sharp breath.

Suddenly her eyes widened, as if realizing the implications of what she’d said.

Darius smiled slowly, satisfied in a way he
hadn’t felt in… well, ever. “It sounds as if you care about me, Tresa.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe even more than care.”

* * *

H
IS WORDS ECHOED THROUGH
her mind, weaving dangerously around her heart, shaking her to the core.

She stared at him with wide eyes, astonished that she had revealed so much. Astonished that she was in this situation at all—feeling these things for a lycan. She moved her lips, but could summon no words.

It had been so long since she’d valued someone over herself. Since she had felt love. The realization hit her like a slap.
She loved him
.

And he knew it.

“Look,” Darius said.

She snapped to attention as he pointed to a shadow skulking by the hedges along the side of the stucco building.

“Is it her?” She straightened in her seat.

“Too dark to tell,” he muttered.

She moved to open her door. His hand on her arm stopped her. “Wait here.”

She tensed, scowling. “What? No way. I’m—”

“If it’s her, Balthazar might be in control at the moment.”

“Yeah.” She nodded in agreement. “And you could use my help.”

“I don’t need to worry about you, too. I don’t want you near him.” His stare drilled into her.

She swallowed, shaken by the intensity of his gaze. “So I’m just going to sit this out from now on? Let you take all the risks?”

He opened his mouth and then shut it, clearly unsure as to what answer worked here.

She watched the shadowed figure move behind the condo, fading from sight. Anxiety tripped through her. “Fine. Go. Before we lose sight of her.”

Slumping back in her seat, she watched as Darius jogged across the street. For a moment she debated following him, but creeping up behind him might be the kind of distraction that put him in danger. Seconds ticked by as her nerves stretched taut, her stomach dipping and twisting until she felt sick.

A realization took over. Balthazar knew what Darius was. He could make sure his witch did, too, and arm her with a silver bullet.

And she was sitting in this stupid car because he wanted her out of harm’s way.
Hell, no.

With a hoarse sound, she fumbled for the door handle and stumbled out of the car. She’d
just move in close enough to see if she could
feel
Balthazar’s presence.

She dashed across the street, her heart pounding a desperate rhythm in her chest. Her only thought as she rounded the house was to reach Darius, to make sure nothing happened to him. It didn’t occur to her to wonder what she would do if she did sense Balthazar. Because at that point he would sense her, too. She’d be doing exactly what Darius didn’t want—putting herself within the demon’s range.

She heard footsteps behind her and she whirled around, getting only a glimpse of a dark figure before something swung at her head and her world exploded in pain.

Bright spots danced before her eyes as she fell, holding an arm over her face instinctively to ward off another blow. But this time she was kicked in the ribs. A sharp breath whooshed from her lungs and she curled into a tight ball.

She concentrated on the foot swinging her way, willing all her energy into stopping it from making contact. She propelled the oncoming leg so far up, her attacker fell backward with a sharp cry. A sharp
feminine
cry. Balthazar’s witch?

They moved simultaneously, getting quickly to their feet. Tresa crouched low, every muscle
tense and ready to spring. She sniffed the air, lifting her face, trying to detect Balthazar. Nothing. He wasn’t here.

So it was just the two of them. Two demon witches.

“I’ve been eager to meet you.” She spoke into the dark, addressing the faceless female who’d occupied her nightmares for weeks now.

The witch didn’t respond. Her shadowy figure continued to circle Tresa, moving with catlike grace.

Tresa tried again. “This isn’t you. It’s him. Balthazar. You didn’t want to hurt those people.”