Authors: Felicity Heaton
She couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for him to lose his parents when he was only a teenager, how hard it must have been for him to live not knowing what had happened to them, and how difficult growing up alone had been. He had gone from a world full of love to one completely devoid of it.
Taig walked away, back into the bedroom, and reappeared a few moments later with a pillow and a blanket.
“You take the room. I’ll sleep out here.” He flung the pillow down at one end of the black couch.
His prickly demeanour was a warning not to argue and that he wanted to be alone. Lealandra took another look at the photograph, at the happy family, and then grabbed her bag off the couch and went into his bedroom. It was as void of life as his living room and kitchen, with a solitary large double bed standing against a black wall, and two small side cupboards. The wardrobes were built-in, white to match the rest of the walls, and the black blinds on the two windows were down, blocking out the morning light. She opened them and idly traced her fingers over the markings on the frames as she stared out at the dawn.
She took a deep breath and sighed.
This room smelt like Taig.
It smelt of spices and warmth.
It comforted her.
Lealandra set the beer bottle down on the side cupboard and sat on the bed. Her dark red coat blended into his bedcovers. She ran her hands outwards, feeling the lingering presence of him in the room and on the bedclothes. At least she would feel safe while she slept, imagining him wrapped around her, holding her close. She shut her eyes and fell back onto the bed. She wanted to ask him to hold her but that would only lead to trouble and she still wasn’t sure what Taig wanted from her or if he still had feelings for her.
Her focus shifted to him.
Was he lying in the living room wondering what she was thinking, just as she wanted to know what was going on in his mind?
Rolling away so her back was to him, she frowned when she noticed the slim black phone beside his bed.
Matthew.
She picked up the phone and dialled his number. It was early enough in the morning that he might already be awake. If he wasn’t, then she hoped it waked him. She had to speak to him. The call connected and she listened to it ringing at the other end.
“Hello.” The sound of Matthew’s sleepy voice swept her back to her old life and a time when magic had been all about having fun.
Now it was anything but that. It was dangerous and she was forever on the verge of losing control to it. She longed to go back to those happier times and then her senses shifted to Taig and she didn’t want to go back after all. Even though her magic was more powerful now and life was difficult, no longer carefree and full of laughter, she wouldn’t sacrifice it and her tentative relationship with Taig in order to return to her old life.
“It’s Lea.” She swallowed and didn’t give him a chance to say anything. “I know my coven have contacted you. Don’t come to New York, Matthew. It’s too dangerous and I... I don’t want to see you hurt too.”
He yawned and she heard material rustling as he moved.
“Lea, what’s wrong? This Gregori calls me out of the blue and says that you’re in trouble and need a new Counter-Balance, and now you’re calling me to tell me to keep away? I’m coming to see you. Just tell me where you are.”
“No.” Her heart beat faster at the thought of him trying to find her. She didn’t want him anywhere near the city. “I mean it, Matthew, stay away. I’ll be fine. I have all the protection I need, but I might lose that if you come here. I can’t guarantee your safety. Once I’ve made it through this, I’ll come to see you and everyone, I promise.”
“Does your protection have a name?” There was a smile in Matthew’s voice. She smiled too. When she had left Taig, she had spent a few days with her old coven before leaving for her new one. Matthew had been her shoulder to cry on. He had held her together, spending almost a day listening to her and letting her cry all she wanted and not saying a word out of place. Without him, she would have fallen apart completely.
“I think you know his name.”
“I also know that I’m not needed then. I won’t come... but if you do need me, you only have to call, okay?”
“Okay.” She nodded and held the phone for a moment. “Don’t tell Gregori. Just... go abroad for a while or something.”
“You’re that worried? You don’t need to answer that. I can almost see your frown from here.” He laughed and then sighed. “I’ve always wanted to visit Europe. Maybe our coven will go out of town for a while. How does a month sound?”
“Perfect... thank you.”
“No, thank you. I might have walked into a war and the last person I want to fight with is you. Call me if you need me and I’ll be right there. Stay safe, yes?” The concern in his tone touched her and she held the phone tighter, wishing she could see Matthew and hug him instead. He would be a powerful ally in her time of need, and could help her survive her ascension, but she couldn’t risk him. It was better that he stayed away until everything blew over.
“You too.” She ended the call before she faltered and asked him to come to her, and her attention moved back to Taig.
The impulse to go to him was strong and almost impossible to resist. She wanted to talk to him, to unlock his secrets and ease his pain. It laced his aura, a physical thing that she could sense as if it were her own.
Her brow furrowed and she stared at the wall, not seeing it. Just feeling him.
Lealandra knew that he didn’t like himself and that his part-demon part-human status left him feeling as though he had nowhere to belong. If she could find her voice, she would tell him that he did belong somewhere—he belonged here on Earth, with her.
But she couldn’t.
Countless times, she had planned to tell him that and every time she had failed. No matter how often she had practiced it in mirrors or recited it to herself while she showered, whenever it came time to say it to his face, the words fled her lips and her voice died.
She lay on the bed, not brave or strong enough to face him and make him believe her.
He would argue against it and she would crumble.
She had to find the right moment, the precise point when Taig would actually believe her, and then she would try to tell him. All she could do right now was let him know that he wasn’t alone in the world and that her feelings for him hadn’t changed. If he wanted her, all he had to do was come and claim her, to make her see that he still felt something for her too and the games he was playing were only because he had been hurt.
Lealandra stood and removed her coat, folding it neatly and placing it on one of the side tables. She pulled her boots off and then began to unlace her corset but stopped. It had to be now. This was the perfect moment for giving him at least a sign that she still loved him.
Her footsteps were silent on the beech wood floorboards. She crossed the room to the door and hesitated on the threshold.
Taig lay on his back on the couch, bare chest exposed and one arm under his head and the pillow. His other hand rested on his stomach. The slow rise and fall of it said that he was asleep. Well, at least one of them was relaxed enough to sleep. Clearly, thoughts of her hadn’t been playing on his mind and keeping him awake after all. She crept into the room. The light was low with the black blinds down and she knocked the coffee table. Taig’s empty beer bottle wobbled at the corner nearest him, threatening to fall and spoil the moment, and then stilled again. She edged around the table and eased to her knees at his head.
Her fingers trembled as she brought her hand up and swept the long strands of black hair from his face, clearing his eyes. He really was beautiful when he wasn’t shooting his mouth off or trying to make her angry. She ran her fingers over his brow, following the line of his dark eyebrows, and then trailed them slowly down over the contours of his cheekbones and jaw.
He frowned and turned his face towards her before opening his eyes. Their black depths met hers and she smiled.
Confusion filled his eyes.
Lealandra leaned towards him, closed her eyes, and brushed her lips against his. It took him a moment to respond and butterflies danced in her stomach and chest when he kept the kiss light. His tongue traced her lips and hers came to meet it, softly tangling with his and luring it into her mouth. He tasted of beer but she didn’t mind. She was sure that she did too. She dropped her hand to his neck and leaned in closer, wanting more, and then reminded herself that this wasn’t supposed to go anywhere, not tonight, and if she kept going, it would do just that.
After one final brush of her lips over his, she pulled back.
Taig stared at her, eyes wide and lips parted.
“That’s how I kiss goodnight,” she whispered and rose to her feet.
His gaze tracked her across the room. She trembled inside, wondering if her goodnight kiss had been a wise idea and whether Taig would come to her.
She fell flat on her front on the bed and sighed.
It had been a stupid idea.
She touched her lips.
It had been nice though.
She focused on Taig and realised that he was doing the same, using his power to sense her.
The ball was in his court now.
T
aig stalked around his apartment, still amazed that he had managed to resist going to Lealandra last night and still cursing himself for it at the same time. She had kissed him, and she had given him those come to bed eyes that she had used on him so many times in the past.
And he had been sorely tempted.
But something had stopped him. Some ridiculous sense of chivalry had kept him pinned to his uncomfortable makeshift bed. By the time he had convinced himself that maybe she wanted him to go to her, maybe she wanted to try again and this wasn’t just fear controlling her actions and making her seek comfort from him, she had fallen asleep. He had sensed her soft rhythmic breathing and heard the steady beat of her heart in the silence of his apartment.
Now he was in a foul mood, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He had business to attend to tonight and normally things went quicker when he was pissed off.
Lealandra stood in the kitchen, doing something to the stove that had seen little action since he had moved in.
Which was more action than he had seen in six years.
Taig walked past Lealandra and stared at her, his gaze raking down the length of her shiny black hair to her creamy shoulders and the tight deep purple strapless corset she wore. He diverted course, heading for her rather than the en-suite bathroom in his bedroom. His hands came up as he neared her, ready to claim her waist and pull her against him. He needed to kiss her again. He needed to taste her and be inside her.
She turned to face him.
One hand immediately dropped to his side while his other ran through his hair, nonchalantly pushing the black mess out of his face. He smiled his best smile, the one that always got her hot and bothered.
Her cheeks burned and then she turned away and attacked something with a spatula.
“What’s for breakfast, honey?” Taig said and, when she didn’t answer, moved around her and leaned against the black counter-top. He folded his arms across his bare chest so his biceps bulged and his pectorals tensed, and peered down at the pan she had on the stove.
Her gaze darted to his chest and then back to the pan.
“Eggs,” she mumbled and stabbed at them with the spatula.
Taig sidestepped, distancing himself in case she started hitting him with it next. Whatever the poor eggs had done to her, it had been bad. Still, at least he wasn’t the only one grouchy this evening. Abstinence made the heart grow darker.
His was about as black as they came.
Lealandra moved towards him and he sidestepped again, and then again when she picked up a knife and started dicing the hell out of some perfectly innocent potatoes.
“Damn it,” she muttered and sucked her left index finger.
He frowned and caught her wrist, pulling her finger from her mouth. “Let me see.”
She tried to tug her arm free but he tightened his grip. She huffed and rolled her eyes while he inspected the cut on her fingertip. A tiny bead of blood blossomed to the surface when he squeezed it. The way she had been cutting the potatoes, he wasn’t surprised that she had cut herself too.
“Go a little easier on them,” Taig whispered and then impulsively pressed a kiss to her cut. Her blood coated his lower lip and he licked it clean. His power surged and his eyes popped wide. Claws shredded his fingertips, dark brown scaly points breaking through the skin. He quickly backed away from Lealandra and rubbed his mouth, trying to get her blood out. His hands shook as he struggled to control his demon side. He didn’t want Lealandra to see it. He spat in the stainless steel sink and then grabbed a glass from the rack on the drainer.
The skin on his fingers tore apart when he turned on the tap and filled the glass. He took a great gulp of the water and choked, coughing it back up into the sink. The glass in his hand smashed, cutting his palm to ribbons, and blood dripped down into the sink, mixing with the water and turning the pieces of glass into islands on a swirling red sea.
“Calm down.” Lealandra’s tone was soft and soothing, a melody he wanted to listen to above all else, but he couldn’t focus on her, couldn’t stop the hunger to change and shed his human mask. Her hand came to rest against his bare back, sliding over his skin in a way that stirred his blood. He felt her power seep into him, straining to reach his, and he let go a fraction, enough that they would meet. He needed the connection, needed to feel that she was here with him and that this wasn’t frightening her. “Taig.”
His demon side pushed again, threatening to expose his true form to her, and panic joined the emotions rushing in his blood. He couldn’t let her see it. If she saw it, she would never love him. She could never love a monster.
He pulled out of her grasp and walked away. Blood ran down his arm when he raised his hand.
“Taig?”
Without looking at her, he stalked to the bedroom door.