All That Bleeds (7 page)

She glanced at Merrick, experiencing another rush of gratitude. She was incredibly lucky that he’d found her.

“Mr. Merrick, I don’t have any real experience getting out of trouble because I don’t normally get into it. May I hire you? I need your advice and expertise.”

The corner of his mouth curved up. “There’s only one kind of work-for-hire that I do.”

She frowned. “I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I said you can’t hire me. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What would you hope for in return?”

“Longer letters?”

She laughed softly, surprised and charmed. “I don’t believe for a minute that that’s the only thing you hope to gain.”

“I’m going to have a drink. I’ll make you one, too. Then you can tell me what illegal or immoral activities you’ve been involved in.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Why would you say that?”

“Cato Jacobi came here to get you back, effectively announcing that he’d had you kidnapped. He wouldn’t have done that if he expected repercussions from your side of the wall. What could he know that would make your family and friends refuse to come after you?”

“Nothing…” She trailed off, thinking of her father. Even if someone had found out about that, she couldn’t imagine anyone helping a ventala to kidnap her. That was effectively being an accomplice to murder, since most ventala would have bled her to death—as Jacobi almost had. She clenched her teeth. Had she really been betrayed by someone she knew? If so, that person couldn’t be allowed to get away with it. Alissa would have to find out who had done it, and why.

Merrick stood at the bar, his back to her. The sound of ice
sliding along the walls of a cocktail shaker filled the air. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Mr. Merrick, if you give your word, do you honor it?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard that you do…keep your word, despite the way you make your living.” She paused, sitting up straighter. “Will you give me your word that you’ll keep what I tell you a secret? And that if you’re not inclined to help me, you won’t prevent me from leaving?”

“I
will
be inclined to help you, and I will let you leave,” he said, his voice as smooth as the polished steel of the shaker. He strained a mixture that looked like hazy sunlight into a chilled cocktail glass.

She took a deep breath and exhaled, rubbing her forehead.

This subject makes her weary,
Merrick thought.

“I’ve been secretly using my influence to help someone. I’ve lied about it. If anyone from the Etherlin found out what I’ve been doing, I would get into a great deal of trouble.”

He walked over to her and held out the glass. “Who have you been helping?”

She tilted her head, her pale blue eyes widening slightly in an innocent expression that made Merrick both hungry and wary. “I’d rather not say.”

“All right. Leave that for now. But ultimately, you’re still doing good. As a muse, that’s your thing. What’s the problem?”

“To be entitled to a muse’s energy and efforts, a person has to work extremely hard and has to have talent or intelligence, ingenuity and drive. Do you understand? There aren’t a lot of muses. Our focused attention facilitates the greatest inventions, the greatest works of literature, feats of athleticism, scientific discoveries…If a muse expends energy on someone who isn’t capable of doing something extraordinary with it, then what happens to the person who could have created a masterpiece or the next technological revolution? It’s actually a weakness in my character that I haven’t stopped.”

Merrick suppressed a smile. This was her big secret? That
she was helping someone? Even if it was the wrong person, he couldn’t believe that if she were caught, her community would throw her out.

“You’re quite the rule breaker,” he said diplomatically.

She ran a hand through her hair. “Apparently so. I sent letters to you.”

“I don’t think Cato Jacobi’s insurance policy against retribution is that you’re misusing your magic. There isn’t anything else?”

“Only the letters, but if someone from the Etherlin knew about them, they could just expose me. They wouldn’t need to get involved with a ventala.”

“Maybe Jacobi has leverage over someone there.”

“Could this Jacobi have found out about my letters from someone who works for you?”

“Nothing’s impossible, but it’s unlikely.”

“Because you’re very discreet and keep the letters locked up?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, but more important, because I have a reputation. When I was an enforcer, I found whoever I hunted.
Always
. Besides, if Jacobi knew about the letters, he’d have said so tonight. A connection between you and me would be more evidence to support a charge he wants to make against me.”

“What charge?”

“That I stole you from his balcony.”

Her brows shot up. “You rescued a kidnap victim. What charge could he possibly make and who could he make it to?”

He returned to the bar. “Trespassing, for one.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped.

He smiled. On the surface, Alissa North looked like an ice queen, but underneath she was pure fire. It was an irresistible combination. He poured scotch, then squeezed the juice from a lime wedge into the glass.

“Scotch Lime. Mr. Hemingway invented that,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen memories of him in Key West.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Seen memories? That’s some magic you people have.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “I’d rather not lose my place in
the Etherlin. Me being here, being bitten, getting an unscreened blood transfusion…” She shuddered. “Even though it wasn’t my fault, there would be unpleasant consequences for me.”

He’d heard rumors, had seen how cautious the muse-heiresses always were. The risk of being tossed out of their community was always there.

She took a sip of her drink. “This is very good, by the way.” She swallowed slowly. “You were able to get into the Etherlin once. Can you get me home without anyone knowing?”

He wanted to say no. The darkest part of his soul did not want to return her to where she belonged. It wanted to keep her. The vampire’s blood wanted to lock her in a tower with stone gargoyle sentries. Those rose-petal lips and crystalline eyes were a temptation that gnawed at his insides. He moved his hands behind his back so that he could clasp them into fists without her seeing.

“I can’t take you back the way I’d go in,” he said, and waited for her reaction. He wanted her to accept that she’d have to stay with him. Of course, that wouldn’t be her reaction, but he still held his tongue.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured, tilting her head, soft blonde hair skimming her shoulder. “I do have a friend who I’m sure will help me conceal that I’ve been here when I tell him about the kidnapping. But he’ll be wary and watchful. For a while, he’ll probably insist on overseeing my work and my life. I won’t be able to risk sending you letters.” She studied his face. “For a while,” she added. “I could write again later. If you still want me to.”

He liked the way the statement implored him to respond in the affirmative. He would have anyway, but there was no denying that the lilt to her voice was pure muse. It had a pull, a sway, that spoke to the human half of him.

“There won’t be an interruption of the letters. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll wonder if you’re all right, and I’ll be inclined to come and check,” he said.

“It’s dangerous for me to have any connection to you. You know that. If anyone learns that I’ve been here—”

“No one from your side will know. I can’t take you the
way I would use, but there’s a way for you to get back without calling your friends or family to help smuggle you in.” He thought of Lysander, who he’d already summoned. Merrick hoped it took all night for him to arrive.

The tip of Alissa’s tongue caressed her top lip, making his mouth go dry, his fangs descend, and his groin take notice. He clenched his fists tighter, fighting for control.

“Well? Are you going to tell me how? Or should I guess?” she asked with a smile. “I warn you, my lack of experience will probably get tedious after the first fifty unsuccessful guesses.”

“Hard to imagine anyone finding you tedious.”

“Mr. Merrick, I—” She paused, putting a hand to her throat.

Merrick wondered if she was unconsciously protecting herself with that move.

“It’s nice to find that I wasn’t wrong about you,” she said.

He arched an eyebrow in question.

“You’ve been charming to me, and sometimes I questioned whether it was a game to get me to trust you, so that I would be tempted to come here if you asked me to. And whether, once I was away from the protection of the Etherlin, you’d drain me dry and laugh at how gullible I’d been.”

It was such a reasonable suspicion, what could he possibly say?

“But I’m here, unprotected, and you’re still charming, still inviting me to trust you.” She lowered her fingers from her throat. “I do. Whatever else you are—despite what you are—I consider you my friend.”

She extended her hand. The hell of it was, he knew if he took it, there would be no power on Earth that would keep him from pulling her to him, and she’d learn how misplaced her trust in him could be. Then he’d be forced to see the disappointment in her eyes. God help him, despite what he was, he didn’t want that.

He swallowed against his dry throat and shook his head at her offered hand.

“Too much of a temptation?” she asked, drawing her hand back.

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a rueful smile. “Yes. Every inch of you.”

“I’m sorry…but flattered,” she said, as she took a step back. “Should I go into the bedroom? We could talk through the closed door.” Her voice had a slightly playful note to it.

He liked it when she flirted. Liked it too much. Unfortunately, she was everything he’d built her up to be in his mind. How the hell could he go back to just the letters?

He unclenched his cramped fingers and went to the bar, where he poured himself another drink.

“Honestly, should I go into the room and close the door?” she asked, all teasing gone.

He squeezed lime juice into the glass, watching it slither into the liquor. “It wouldn’t do any good. I’d come in after you.”
And we’d be closer to a bed.

“Mr. Merrick, what’s your first name?”

“Just call me Merrick. Everyone does.”

“But isn’t that your last name? You can call me Alissa, and I thought I could call you by your first name. Just for this evening, since we’re the only ones here.”

He poured the scotch down his throat in two slow swallows, then looked over his shoulder to find her watching him. “Do you think it’s wise to invite that kind of intimacy?”

“Not normally, but I think this may be the only time we’ll ever be in a room together.”

Don’t count on it.
He set the empty glass down and moved toward her casually, so he wouldn’t put her on her guard. He liked that she was relaxed around him.

“I’d like to talk to you as a friend would,” she said.

A friend? His intentions could hardly be considered friendly. He watched her mouth move. There was a very good chance that if he kissed her, he’d be able to let her go if she resisted. He took another step in her direction. She was only a few feet away. One swift lunge and the struggle with himself would be over.

She smiled, tantalizing him. Another step. She was within reach now. He glanced at the rug. Expensive, but not soft. The couch was nearer than the bedroom.

He’d seduce her. He could probably keep himself from
biting her. At the moment, her blood was diluted from the transfusion. Plus, control was one of his strengths—normally. The danger was that he’d waited such a long time to taste her. Who’d have thought letters could be foreplay?

“I’m curious about your life and your past,” she said. “I’d love to ask—”

She didn’t see him reach for her because the thump on the balcony drew her attention. He clenched his jaw, his fangs scraping his lip. He swallowed the blood and let his hand fall before it touched her.

Lysander’s here. She’s safe from me.

And soon she’ll be gone,
he thought with a frown. Temptation swamped him. The temptation to talk to Lysander on the balcony, to send him away, to barricade the doors, to keep the entire world out…

The balcony door opened, and the archangel ducked his dark blond head to come inside.

Too late,
Merrick thought, exhaling.
No turning back now.

He’d arranged this because it was what she wanted most. Unfortunately, at the moment, it was also what he wanted least.

“My God,” Alissa whispered.

That Alissa herself was descended from a legendary being didn’t prepare her for the sight of the entering creature. She stared as the light fractured around him, bending toward him, then blurring away. Her eyes strained to absorb every spectacular detail. Seven feet tall, broad, shirtless, and scarred. His shoulder-length hair hung in haphazard dark gold waves around a heartbreaking face that was both young and hard. His face was marked with three scars; there were two thin ones along the left side of his forehead, like sinister echoes of his brow just below them, and then a longer scar that ran from in front of his left ear to his jaw. The third slash seemed to continue through the air, picking up at his right collarbone and crossing his chest before stopping at his right nipple. What kind of blade had made that mark? How deep had the wound originally been? And how had he survived such brutal attacks?

Other scars crisscrossed his chest, punctuating the spectacle of his muscled torso. And then there were the wings that folded behind him. Ivory-, amber-, and sienna-colored feathers overlapped each other in a stunning array of harmony from chaos.

With a sucking sound, his wings disappeared. Fascinated, she tilted her head, wishing she’d been standing behind him to watch them fold into his back. His hand moved to the right calf of his worn leather pants. A moment later, he skinned a knife from its sheath and sported a dagger with a foot-long blade.