Assassin: Fall of the Golden Valefar (A Paranormal Romance—Book #6 in the Demon Kissed Series) (10 page)

Natalia had to push him away. If Eric was her mark, she
couldn’t feel like this. Her emotions were drowning out her logic. A lifetime
of revenge couldn’t be forgiven this easily, and she couldn’t deal with it. “I
can’t do this anymore. I can’t wonder what’s going through your head. I can’t
wonder who you are, and I don’t want to.” Regret forced her spine straight, and
before she knew what she was saying, she added, “Not unless you give me
something.
Boy-with-no-last-name.
Guy-who-walks-through-walls.”
Smiling sadly, she knew he wouldn’t answer. This was the end. This was
good-bye.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Eric knew he should turn around and leave, but he didn’t
want to. There was something about her that made him want to stay. Maybe it was
Natalia. She was more than a friend and the thought of her walking away made
him sick. A normal girl would have run away screaming that he was a demon for
walking through a door, but Natalia looked at him the same as always, and those
cold blue eyes were demanding an answer.

Eric took a deep breath and looked away. Running his hands
through his hair he glanced back at her. There was no way to explain this. There
was no way to give her what she wanted. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to
tell her, he couldn’t. “No one knows my last name. It has to stay that way.” She
bristled, but he continued, “I could have lied to you. I could have said
something else, some random name, but I don’t want to do that, Nat. Don’t
force
me out of your life. Not yet. I don’t want to leave
you.”

Her voice was
shaking,
anger and
tension were colliding within her. Why? After all these years of being alone,
no one had ever turned her head the way Eric did. Her heart was pounding in her
chest like she was breaking up with her first boyfriend even though she didn’t
want to. Eric was so infuriating. He wouldn’t tell her, and without that info
she didn’t know if she could let him get closer. She’d tried so hard to be
better than the monster that killed her mother. She didn’t want to pretend with
him anymore. Getting close to him, tasting his kiss and then turning around and
killing him—the thought made her throat tighten. She couldn’t breathe. It took
every ounce of restraint she had to not kick him. If her foot wasn’t screaming
with pain, she would have. Natalia was determined to keep that piece of
information to herself.

She pleaded, “Then
tell
me
something. Make the damn gesture, Eric.”

Surprised, he stepped back and blinked at her, but said
nothing. Her blue eyes were narrowing and growing colder by the minute. “Fine,”
she said after too much time passed. “Get out.” A tapered finger pointed toward
the door, telling him to leave.

Eric glanced away from her. He didn’t know what to do with
her. She was hurt.
Angry.
Her fury seemed to bubble to
the surface again. She cocked her hip to the side, threw all of her weight on
one leg, and arms folded over her chest. She was throwing him out.
“Fine.
If that’s the way you want it, I’ll leave. I just
need to grab something I left here first.”

“Fine.”
She turned her back on
him, and walked away. Eric watched the sway of her hips, the long hair moving
as she walked. Thoughts of her laughing, smiling at him with the sun shining in
her hair flooded his mind. His eyes slid down her frame slowly, almost admiring
her. Something within his chest tightened when she spoke. The coldness that he
had forced on her so often was returned to him tenfold.

Natalia felt trapped. As she turned away from him, she
tried to hide the bad ankle, but Eric was watching her. He would notice that
she broke her promise and didn’t stay inside. Barely avoiding Carina’s guards
this morning, she managed to get home before Eric walked through the door. She’d
followed Eric for a while, and saw at him the gates of a white mansion speaking
to a lady covered in grime. Eric would be pissed when he found out she was
out,
and dually pissed when he realized she was trailing
him. As she stepped, her ankle felt like it was going to explode. The
altercation with Carina’s men was short, but she thought the bone broke. There
was no medical help, no one to ask, except the boy standing in front of her. And
he would turn into a seething lunatic when he noticed. She didn’t know what she
wanted from him anymore. He was her friend one moment and more than that the
next. She couldn’t do this anymore. If he’d said anything, she would have
thrown her arms around his neck. The memory of his scent lingered in her mind. She
chased the thoughts away. Things like that did her no good.
 

“I’ll just grab it and go,” he said, with a strange tone to
his voice, still standing by the door.

Was he asking her? That did it. She couldn’t take it
anymore. Maybe it was a mad rush of PMS, maybe it was that Eric was always
crazy—saying the wrong things, doing things the wrong way—she didn’t care
anymore. Rage rushed through her like a flowing fire.

Natalia turned toward him, “Go to Hell, Eric! Take what you
wanted and leave. I’m not playing your mind games anymore.” She turned away
from him, angry. Hurt. That quick movement, the rapid turn of her body shot
stabbing pain up through her leg. Natalia winced, her face pinching together as
she tried not to make a sound, continuing to walk like nothing was wrong.

Eric watched her, feeling it, sensing the agony that
coursed through her body with each step. He smiled at her back, softly shaking
his head. Every time her foot hit the floor, he felt released—free. Without a
word, he crossed the room in two long strides and swept her up into his arms. She
gasped as his arms slid under her hips and around her waist. Eric brought her
up to his face, cradling her in his arms, growling, “I told you before—I’m not
playing games. And you, you liar! You snuck out. What did I tell you?” Eric
wasn’t angry, he was actually being sweet, but it just infuriated Natalia even
more.

“You’re not the boss of me! Put me down.
Now.”
She growled, trying to get out of his arms.

Eric erupted into laughter, “You’re not the boss of me?” he
mimicked. “What are you, five? And for the moment, yes, I am the boss of you. You
broke your damn foot. Did Carina’s guys find you and do this? Or did you go
looking for them?” She blanched. Eric hit closer to home than he realized, but
he was distracted, feeling the weight of her body in his arms, the curve of her
hip against his stomach. The smile remained on Eric’s lips, but he didn’t
release her. He walked through the shambles of the home.

“Where’s a couch or a bed?” he asked, ducking in and out of
a few rooms. The girl had moved things around. He needed some place to lay her
down to mend her ankle. Natalia spewed more nasty words at him, threatening to
do some things that Eric found appealing.

“Ah, here,” he said after kicking open a door with his
boot. “This is your room, then?” He stopped when he entered, surprised.

Not much made Eric pause, but this—this made him shiver.

The room was breathtaking, draped in darkness with linens
so thick that they choked out all light. The walls were painted with images of
the night he found her. All the pictures were dark, tumultuous. He walked her
to the bed and stopped, turning slowly to see the walls. Every spare scrap of
space had another image, demon scales, the Omen’s wings, inky talons. It was as
if every piece of darkness from that night was right in front of him. And he
could feel it, sense it, all the things Natalia felt—raw fear mixed with
something else. Something that made his pulse
quicken
.

When he looked down at the girl in his arms, she didn’t
meet his gaze. Instead her lashes were lowered, concealing her eyes. “You
weren’t supposed to come here.” Her heart beat harder in her chest. He placed
her gently on the bed, and looked up to see half of his face, portrayed as night—amber
eyes filled with blood staring back at him. Instinctively, he moved toward it. The
image of him was half covered with a dark piece of velvet that hung from floor
to ceiling.

“Eric, don’t. Leave it.”

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. When his fingers took
the piece of soft fabric, and lifted it, he was shocked. There was nothing that
could have prepared him for what he saw. Eric stared blankly at the wall, at
his portrait.

“It’s not what you think,” she said quietly. Oh God. Her
stomach twisted inside of her. No one had ever seen this part of her. She hid
it, concealing it in the one place she knew it would never be seen, but Eric
was seeing it.

Eric dropped the drape and turned back to her. His eyes met
hers, his lips parted. He couldn’t hide the shock on his face. No one ever made
him feel like this. No one saw what this girl saw. “When did you paint this?”
he
asked,
his voice light.

Natalia turned away. She felt compelled to answer, her
anger melted away. “I don’t know.
Years ago.
When we first met.”
Eric looked at the painting, the half
that was uncovered next to her bed. The girl had surrounded herself with
nightmares, only the darkest images from the night she was attacked. They
stared at her as she slept in her bed.

Eric stood in front of her,
mouth
 
open
, uncertain of what to say. Looking
away from her, staring at the wall, he finally asked, “Is that how you see me? Is
that really what you think I am?” When he turned to face her, Natalia was
watching him.

She breathed deeply, her chest swelling as she tucked her
hair behind her ear. Her eyes rested on his face. For a moment he remembered
nothing of what he was, there was only what he was turning into. And all this
time, he thought she didn’t see him, but this… She saw him all right. She saw
every bit, ever fiber. It was as if he was on display and it unnerved him. Not
only that, but he felt her pain, her anguish—every bit of her soul was
displayed in front of him in paint.

She spoke softly, “Yes.”

Natalia painted everything as if it were a nightmare,
coursing with emotion. The pain and terror in the brush strokes made him close
his eyes. The demons were painted perfectly, their sharp teeth gleaming with
eyes thirsty for blood. She captured their savage desperation, their struggle
to survive, as well as the carnage they left in their wake. Rivers of blackened
blood flowed across her walls, mingling with red—human blood—that lead to his
portrait.

He swallowed hard, pulling back the fabric again. The side
that wasn’t covered depicted him as he looked, and how he felt.
Like he was trapped.
Night covered his face, concealing his
emotions, making him mysterious and dangerous in her eyes. But it was what was
behind the curtain that made him choke. This half of him was darker than the
first, covered in crimson—blood—flowing from a black and silver blade. His eyes
were demon eyes, greedy, desperate and glowing like an unquenchable fire. That’s
how she saw him, her savior—he was night, and darkness, and blood. There was no
speck of light in his eyes, no indication that she thought he was anything
other than a monster.

Suddenly, Natalia’s hand was on his shoulder, startling
him. Eric turned quickly, grabbing her wrists and slamming her into the wall. He
trapped her body beneath his, breathing hard in her face. He could feel her
heart beating rapidly against her ribs, like it would explode inside her chest.
“Why?” he hissed. “Why have you been following me if you think I’m worse than
the demons? Why demand friendship from me, if you see what I really am?”

For once Natalia was afraid. It coursed through her body
without her consent. “You weren’t supposed to be here! This wasn’t for you to
see...”

Eric slammed his body against hers, forcing the air out of
her lungs in a puff. She choked, gasping. His eyes were hot, rimming. She had
no idea what she did to him—her body, her scent, and then this. The fear
coursing through her made him want her even more.

“Why is this here? Why is this where you sleep? Answer me!”
Eric was angry that he was shaking. Thinking that you are a monster is one
thing. Seeing it painted so carefully is quite another. He was afraid, and
angry. A torrent of emotions ran through his core, drowning out his reasoning.

Natalia’s ankle was throbbing. She wanted to scream, and
beat Eric within an inch of his life, but she forced herself to stop
struggling. He had her pinned. “I don’t know! I just started painting, and
that’s what came out. Why are you upset? You’ve been telling me that you’d kill
me, given the chance—and this? This bothers you? Some paint slapped on a wall?”
She tried to sound light, like she wasn’t afraid of the feelings she evoked.

Eric gazed at her, barely aware of what he was thinking. Her
scent filled his head with every breath. Fear filled the air, and was strewn
across the walls. She saw him. She saw what he was, but still followed him. She
still wanted him around. That only meant one of two things, both of which would
result in her demise. She was already dead. Whatever her feelings were for him,
he was certain they weren’t neutral. “This can’t be. It has to stop.” He
lowered her. Natalia slid down the wall, landing softly on her ankle, before
Eric lifted her back onto the bed. Determination shot through him. He had to
get away from her, but if he left her with her ankle like that, she couldn’t
fight. Fuck, she could barely stand.

“Eric,” Natalia asked softly, her pulse still racing.

Eric didn’t answer her. Instead, he slid his fingers over
her foot, slowly feeling. “It’s not a sprain, Natalia. It’s broken. We need to
fix it. And since you seem to already know what I am, let’s not pretend
anymore.” He looked up into her face. Natalia’s pink lips were parted as if she
didn’t understand.
Fine.
He didn’t care what she
admitted. The painting said she knew. The brushstrokes betrayed her. He
suspected what she was, and why she was following him. This would prove it.