Ascension (12 page)

He would do anything for her.

He would protect her with his life.

T
aig’s breath left him in a sharp burst when he hit the side of the crypt. He growled, pushed himself back onto his feet and ran through the darkness towards the lit path and the man responsible. The slim man grinned at him and then turned towards Lealandra. Bloody immortals. Taig growled again and threw himself at the man, tackling him to the ground and trying to pin him there. The man hit him solidly across the jaw. The taste of blood filled his mouth but Taig didn’t back down. He closed his hands around the man’s throat, throttling him. It wouldn’t kill him, but it satisfied the deep craving for revenge crawling around Taig’s insides.

The man choked and Taig tightened his grip, grinning down at him. He hated immortals. They were a bitch to kill and this one had taken a fancy to Lealandra. A distraction. He had told her that was what she would be if she came with him and she was. He wasn’t worried about her. She could handle herself. But he wouldn’t let the immortal near enough to her in order for that to happen.

Taig frowned when the man rolled him over, landing on top, and pushed his hands down on Taig’s arms. He struggled to keep hold of the man’s throat and got a knee in the ribs for his effort. His hands slipped from the man’s neck and he was gone. A moment later, pain exploded in Taig’s right side. The heavy black boot swung towards him again and Taig caught it, pushed it up, and sent the man crashing to the ground.

Before Taig could jump him, Lealandra had shot a dazzling red bolt of power towards him, sending the man hurtling into the same crypt that had given Taig a headache. The stone shattered into a heap under the impact, burying the man. Taig dragged himself to his feet and breathed hard. It hadn’t been an easy fight so far but he was getting into now, and could sense that Lealandra was too. Her power flowed through him in tangible waves, ones that he could feel the strength in. She was far more powerful than she had been six years ago. Something told him that her impending ascension wasn’t the only reason behind it. Her magic had been growing in their time apart.

Grey rubble tumbled down the pile in front of them and the man crawled out of it. He stood, a scowl darkening his pale eyes, and calmly dusted down his black coat.

Taig readied himself.

The sharp rise in Lealandra’s power told him she had too.

The man carefully neatened up his brown hair and then ran at Taig.

Taig drew both guns, firing one round after another, each one hitting its target. The man kept running, blood streaming down his coat, drenching his pale shirt. Taig shot him in the head. The man hit the dirt.

Silence reigned as Taig waited, knowing that the man would get up again. Bullets would only slow him down. Taig needed to find a way to put the man out of action permanently.

Lealandra’s power rose another notch. Red ribbons spiralled around her hands and forearms. She was gearing up for a fight. The sight of her so focused on their mark, her eyebrows drawn tight and her lips compressed into a dark line, made him think of all the times he had hunted with her.

And all of their victories.

Arousal tightened his gut, heating him from the inside out as his body responded to the memories of making out with Lealandra.

He told himself that it wasn’t going to happen this time. Things were different now.

Or were they?

Lealandra’s gaze crept slowly over to him. Red ringed her grey irises. Her pupils widened into dark chasms of hunger that told him he wasn’t the only one thinking about victory sex.

Taig took a step towards her.

The immortal did one better. He shot to his feet and ran at Lealandra. She was too slow to turn. Unprepared. Distracted by him. Taig sprinted across the open ground to her, caught her around her waist and pulled her close to his chest. The immortal didn’t slow his approach. He threw a punch at Taig. Taig ducked backwards to avoid it, let his claws burst through the skin on his fingers and grabbed the immortal’s shoulder. His claws sunk deep into his enemy and he twisted with him, still holding Lealandra close, using the combination of the immortal’s momentum and his own strength to slam the man into the grassy earth. Lealandra gasped and Taig looked across to see her staring at his hand on her waist.

That was the trouble with needing his claws. He never had mastered the ability to change only one of his hands. The one holding her waist was now dark brown and scaly, his fingers transformed by thick armour and claw-like tips.

Taig released her, hauled the immortal off the floor and growled as he slashed his claws across the man’s throat and then snapped his neck with such force that his head came off. The immortal’s body dropped to the ground. Come back from that one.

Taig casually dropped the head, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His hands shook, the skin on his wrists starting to tear and reveal more of his true appearance. Panic threatened to overwhelm him but he tamped it down and slowed his breathing in an attempt to settle his heart and stop the emergence of his demon side. The skin on his wrists slowly repaired itself, meshing together with a new layer that appeared over the back of his hands.

Lealandra touched his shoulder from behind.

Taig turned towards her, raising his human hands at the same time. “All man again—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Lealandra’s mouth captured his and the force of her kiss stole his voice. Her tongue thrust between his lips and her fingers raked through his hair, mussing it and making him groan. Taig wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her flush against him, holding her so tightly that he was sure he would hurt her. He couldn’t help himself. She ran her long nails over his scalp and down his throat, and then looped her arms around his neck.

Her body pressed against his, rubbing in a way that had him aching in his jeans, hard and ready for her. He shifted, thrusting his hips into hers and she moaned into his mouth. Such a sweet sound. He ground again, eliciting another low sigh from her, and lowered his hands to her backside. Heat spread through him as he cupped her bottom, idly reacquainting himself with it while she kissed the breath from him. This felt too good.

He frowned and closed his eyes when her mouth left his and she pressed wet kisses along his jaw, her breathing rough and laboured, and her movements jerky and frantic. The desire to claim her as his again, to dominate her and make her surrender to him was too strong to ignore. He held her closer, pulling her possessively against him and letting her feel his strength. She moaned again and arched into him, tiptoed so the apex of her thighs was against his. Too good.

Her red nails scored his leather jacket’s sleeves and he growled. It seemed his little witch still liked it rough sometimes. He pressed his body hard against hers, grasping her backside so she couldn’t move. He could do it rough. He could do it any way she liked as long as he was back inside her.

As long as they were one again.

The tempo of her kisses changed when she reached his neck. They turned slower, deeper, showing all of her hunger for him. She devoured his throat with blunt teeth and groaned. Her warm breath tickled his skin, stirred the fire within him that burned with a desire to respond, to give her just what she wanted.

Blood.

His mouth had other ideas.

“It’ll cost you extra this time.”

Taig closed his eyes the moment she pulled away, not wanting to see the hurt he could feel in her, and cursed himself for being stupid enough to say such a thing. The expected slap didn’t come. When he opened his eyes, she had her back to him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. He didn’t know what was worse—her hitting him for saying something cruel or the silent treatment.

Lealandra hunched up and lowered her head.

The silent treatment won.

He reached out to touch her shoulder and then thought better of it. She had a right to be pissed off and he was being a complete bastard to her by treating her so poorly. All he wanted to do was welcome her back with open arms, to drag her back into his life and never let her go, but whenever he got close, he remembered the night she had left him and the man she had left him for, and he couldn’t stop himself from snapping.

Withdrawing his hand, Taig sighed and then turned his attention back to tonight’s mark. The body was decomposing. Time loved to play catch up with immortals and the longer they had lived, the quicker it happened. Judging by the man’s rate of decomposition, he had been alive for centuries. Taig stooped and took the signet ring from the man’s finger as it crumbled. It would have to suffice as proof that he had done the job.

He stood again and looked at Lealandra. She still had her back to him. He walked over to her, hesitated a moment, and then wrapped his arm around her chest, drawing her towards him so her back was pressed against his front.

She sighed.

Was sorry a strong enough word to erase everything he had ever done to her? If it was, he would say it a thousand times over so she knew just how sorry he was, and then he would say it a million times more. He didn’t mean to push her away but years of resentment lingered inside him and it had turned him bitter, and now he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

Except love her.

And believe that she loved him.

One he could easily do, the other seemed so impossible.

Lealandra kissed the hand he held her shoulder with and then ran her fingers over it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and leaned back into him.

He sighed this time. How was it she could find the strength to apologise and he couldn’t? His heart said it was her humanity. A demon like him didn’t know how to behave in such a way.

Lealandra turned in his arms and looked up at him. He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. The moon made her pale and beautiful. Her eyes were so wide and open, so full of calm acceptance. A part of him said that he could apologise, that a demon knew how to behave just as a human did. It was the man in him who couldn’t bring himself to admit that he had been wrong.

It was his human side, not his demon one.

His demon side had only one thing it wanted to say to her and it was something neither man nor monster had ever told her.

He loved her.

T
he bar was dark and empty. The long batwing-tipped hands on the ridiculously oversized and cliché gothic clock on the deep red wall above the bar announced that it was gone four in the morning. The sun would be rising soon. Most of the patrons of the club seemed to have known that and had disappeared a few minutes after Lealandra and Taig had arrived. They sat in a booth near a fire-exit to the left of a stage. The thin black and red hangings obscured Lealandra’s view of the rest of the club. It was nothing short of a Goth’s wet dream. Red velvet covered everything. Gilt candle sconces adorned the black walls, their fake-candle bulbs flickering away. The tables in the bigger booths were mahogany coffins on legs.

And the thin dark haired man opposite her was a vampire.

Taig was talking calmly to him. Lealandra didn’t bother to listen, knowing that it was all business. He held the ring out and the vampire raised one fine plucked black eyebrow at it. His black-ringed pale irises moved to her and then back to Taig. He didn’t seem to like the fact that Taig had brought company. She had offered to wait outside but Taig had been insistent and it was impossible to change his mind when he thought she was in danger.

She didn’t think that hanging around outside this club would prove that dangerous for her. Most demons wouldn’t be seen dead somewhere that catered so openly to human fantasies of what life as a vampire was, rather than the slightly more grim reality of having to live on blood and being unable to go out in the sun.

Blood.

Her power whispered to her, speaking of Taig’s blood and her need for it. She was still hungry. The small amount Taig had given to her had only soothed her power a fraction. She needed more to get it back under total control but she had the feeling he was being serious when he said it would cost her, and she knew the price he had in mind.

Her heart.

Lealandra had come to realise that he wasn’t really after her body. He wanted her heart, wanted her to be his and only his, for the rest of his life.

She wondered if he knew that was what he wanted and whether he would accept it if she dared to offer.

“Seems genuine enough,” the vampire drawled and then thoughtfully ran his thumb across his lower lip as he examined the ring. “It is a shame you couldn’t bring the body back.”

Lealandra frowned. The vampire had wanted the immortal’s blood. She had heard that immortal blood had potent aphrodisiac qualities. Was the vampire after a strong fix or the bloody form of Viagra?

The vampire tossed a thick manila envelope onto the shiny black table. It landed in a wet ring left by the glass now held in Taig’s hand. Taig necked the whisky and then casually took up the envelope. Lealandra hid her surprise when Taig opened it and thumbed the wedge of cash tucked inside.

That was a lot of money.

“It’s all there.” The vampire leaned back into the red velvet bench. Lealandra shifted uncomfortably on her chair. She was getting tired and restless. The hunt had taken most of the night and she just wanted to get back to Taig’s place and sleep since he had spoiled her fun in the graveyard. The vampire glanced at her again and then back at Taig. “I have another contract you might be interested in. Fifty large.”

Lealandra’s eyes almost popped out of her head. She blinked at the vampire and then at Taig. He didn’t seem at all fazed by the amount of money the vampire had offered him to do a job.

“I have another contract already,” Taig said and the vampire raised an eyebrow before shrugging.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

The sum of money the vampire had paid Taig for the job tonight and what he had offered for another, made it clear that Taig wasn’t helping her for the cash. She had offered him such a tiny amount in comparison and he was making a fortune by hunting. Things hadn’t paid this well back when she had hunted with him. He must have worked hard over the past six years to build a reputation worthy of that kind of payment.