Darkness Devours (20 page)

“Because I am actively projecting Jak’s image to all in this room. Wearing his suit lessens the depth of detail I have to transmit, and makes it easier to maintain over a longer period.”

He pulled out the chair for me, his fingers brushing my spine as I sat, just as Jak’s would have. A tremor ran through me. This was
dangerous
. Possibly more so than if it
had
been the real Jak.

I placed my purse on the table, then picked up the water jug and poured a drink. Wine was not a good idea. I might not get drunk on the stuff, thanks to my werewolf constitution, but enough of it could certainly dull common sense, if only for the briefest time. Right now, with Azriel looking so good, I needed all the good sense I could get.

“Have you seen Frank Logan yet?” I hadn’t seen our lawyer on the way in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here.

“Not as yet. But I walked around when I first arrived. He’s been placed two tables across to your left, next to the man wearing the odd toupee.”

I looked around and restrained a laugh. The hairpiece in question sat on the gentleman’s head like a scraggly gray cat ready to pounce on the next unfortunate person to pass by.

“That cannot possibly be the height of fashion,” Azriel continued blandly.

I turned back and met his gaze. Just for a moment, humor and warmth teased his lips and crinkled the corners of his mismatched blue eyes, and my breath caught somewhere in my throat.

If I got through this evening without giving in to temptation, it was going to be a goddamn miracle.

I gulped down some water, then said, “What about our Cazador watcher? Is he still around?”

Azriel’s gaze flicked past me for a moment. “Yes.”

I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. “And does he follow us into the hotel room?”

“No. He generally waits in the lobby.”

“Generally” meant not always. Great. Not that there was a lot I could do about it.

I drank some more water and glanced at my watch. Time seemed to be crawling by. I wasn’t sure what else to say to Azriel, so I made small talk with the woman sitting on my left, and picked at the various courses as they came and went.

Frank Logan finally made an appearance just as they started the fund-raising auction. He was a big man with dark hair, a roman nose, thin lips, and a sharp chin.

I leaned closer to Azriel and said, “Can you listen to his thoughts from here?”

“Maybe.” His expression was closed, giving little away. After several minutes, he said, “Someone has placed major barriers around his mind.”

I frowned. “But I thought the human mind was open to you to read, and that not even vampires could block you?”

“They can’t. And Logan isn’t a vampire.”

A point I was well aware of, so I didn’t bother reacting to it. “So how come his mind is blocked? Why can’t you get past it?”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t get past it, but the existence and strength of the barriers suggest whoever is behind them is well aware of just how a reaper operates.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Are the blocks aimed at reapers specifically? Because that would mean someone is aware that we’re targeting Logan.”

His gaze came to mine. “Yes.”

Shit
. I took a deep breath, half listening to the auctioneer chattering on about the signed, framed football jumper they were auctioning. “Does that mean we’ve wasted our time tonight?”

“No. I can break the barrier, but not without one-on-one contact.”

“Meaning we have to catch him alone?”

“Yes.”

“That’s going to be hard at a function like this.”

He shrugged. “Not necessarily. Is it not human nature to want to visit the bathroom after a large intake of alcohol?”

I glanced across at Logan. He’d suddenly started guzzling beer like it was water. I met Azriel’s gaze again. It was as impassive as ever, but deep in those blue depths, amusement lurked. “Your doing?”

“His memories may have been blocked, but his control centers have not.”

I grinned. “Brilliant idea.”

“I do have them occasionally.”

I snorted softly. “And you’re modest to boot.”

“What is the truth is hardly modest.”

“But it also suggests you’ve had more than a few bad ideas.”

There was a flicker in his eyes that spoke of regret. “No Mijai is infallible. That is why we are dark angels.”

I half wondered what infallibility he was talking about, because I very much suspected it
wasn’t
the actions that had made him a Mijai.

The auction finished and music started up. Logan
rose and—looking decidedly unsteady on his feet—grabbed the hand of the blonde sitting next to him and dragged her toward the dance floor.

“Do you think we should keep close to him?” I asked, half fearing the answer would be no, and yet—absurdly—also fearing a yes.

He wasn’t looking at me, but rather Logan. “It would be more advantageous if we were close. It will be easier to prevent others from following him into the bathroom.”

Damn. I took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Can you dance?”

He glanced at me. “If dancing requires little more than shuffling your feet from one side to the other, as many on that floor are currently doing, then yes.”

Relief washed over me. Shuffling from side to side was a whole lot more survivable than the close body contact I’d been half imagining.

He rose and offered me his hand. My hesitation was brief, but nevertheless there, and again that annoyance flashed in his eyes. It made me wonder what energy Valdis was emitting, but for some reason his sword wasn’t visible. I wasn’t even sure he was wearing it. I
was
wearing Amaya, but she was always shadow-wreathed and therefore invisible.

“I am never without Valdis,” he said, one hand against my spine as he guided me toward the floor.

“Then why can’t I see her?”

“She hides her form.”

“
She
hides it?”

He nodded. “She does not naturally shadow, as
Amaya does, but she can hide her form when I need all of my energy.”

We reached the edge of the dance floor. Logan was deep in the center of the crowd, so Azriel’s hand slipped from my spine to my fingers, the movement sensual. Delight shivered through me.

As he led the way through the crush of people, the music abruptly changed from pop to a slow waltz. I eyed his broad back suspiciously. “Did you do that?”

He turned around, then pulled me closer. “
Would
I do that?”

Though his expression was still its usual bland self, there was an edge in his voice that had my pulse rate skipping. Or maybe that was simply his closeness, the way his body seemed to fit so well against mine, the play of his muscles against my skin as he moved in time to the music. The gentle caress of his fingers across my back.

He didn’t speak. I
couldn’t speak
. I couldn’t even look at him. If I did…

I shivered again, feeling like I was being torn apart, my mind a tumult of conflicting emotions. Desire and fear waged a fierce war inside me and I couldn’t predict which one would win. Or which one I
wanted
to win.

The waltz went on, and the dance became more sensual. I’m not entirely sure how that happened, since our actual movement and position remained unchanged. But suddenly it was as if there were no one else in the room—it was just me and him and the intimacy that was building between us.

“Risa,” he said softly, “look at me.”

I shook my head. My courage had come under attack from many avenues over the past few months, but I’d never expected it to fail in the face of desire. I just
couldn’t
meet his gaze. I feared what I would see, what I would have to acknowledge.

What it would lead to.

“
Look
at me.”

This time, the demand in his voice was undeniable, and I found my gaze rising almost against my will.

My breath caught somewhere in my throat.

Because there in the blue of his eyes was a desire so stark and raw it burned my very soul.

“You cannot deny this, Risa,” he said softly. “You cannot deny
us
.”

Oh god, oh god, oh god
…

It was a litany that tumbled unchecked through my thoughts. I couldn’t think any more than that, couldn’t react, my brain and body held captive not just by what I saw in his eyes, but what I felt, as well.

Because what I felt was
him
. His energy, his being.

Against my skin and in my mind. He burned me, inside and out, making me tremble and ache and wish for… for what? Not sex, not exactly. More a completeness.

As if that made any sense.

I licked my lips and somehow managed to croak, “It could change everything between us, Azriel—and may-be not in a good way.”

“That is possible—maybe even probable. But what is acknowledged might also be controlled.”

It might not, too. “I think it’s a very
bad
idea.”

“I tend to agree.”

That rawness still burned me, making me ache for something I couldn’t even begin to describe. “Then why…?”

“Because,” he said, a harsh edge of determination in his tone. “I have no other choice.”

“There are always choices,” I said, quoting his own words back at him. “And wouldn’t seducing me break one of those many rules Mijai have?”

He didn’t immediately reply, but his hand slid sensually down my spine and came to rest on my rump. The effect was electric—a firestorm that ripped through my body, making me shudder, making me ache.

“Azriel—” I stopped, not entirely sure what I was about to say. Not sure that I
should
say anything.

“The rules are very clear,” he said softly. “But sometimes the gain is worth the punishment.”

And with that, his lips met mine.

It wasn’t a kiss. Not exactly. It was flesh against flesh, true, but it was a whole lot more. It was energy and spirit and desire all tied up in one gentle motion, and it made me fly and, at the same time, made me weak.

“This will not end here,” he said, so softly that his words were little more than a sigh across my lips. “It
cannot
end here.”

I still couldn’t answer. I just stared at him, seeing the determination deep in those raw depths and wondering why he’d forced the issue now and not before.

He didn’t answer those thoughts, but I didn’t really expect him to. Instead, he stepped back, breaking the spell of his closeness. Cool air washed between us, and a gasp of surprise escaped my lips.

“Logan moves,” was all he said.

But his fingers slipped down to mine, and once again he was leading me through the crowd. I was glad of that light contact. I don’t think I could have moved of my own accord.

There were several people between Logan and us in the corridor that led to the bathrooms, but all the men did an abrupt about-face and walked away. Hopefully, I thought with a smile, their bladders would hold.

Logan pushed the bathroom door open, and five seconds later we followed. Logan was in the process of getting the old boy out, and gave me an owlish look as he hastily did himself back up.

“Here now, you can’t—” His words cut off and he fell silent.

Azriel glanced at me. “Lock the door.”

I did so, then leaned back against it and crossed my arms. Azriel touched two fingers to Logan’s forehead, and closed his eyes. For several minutes nothing happened. Then someone bashed on the door behind me, the suddenness of it making me jump.

“The bathroom is closed for cleaning,” I yelled. “Give us ten minutes, or use the bathrooms on the other side of the building.”

Muttered curses followed this statement, but the footsteps moved away.

Azriel stepped back from Logan, who didn’t move or respond in any way. Azriel obviously still held his mind, keeping him unseeing and unhearing. “I have a description of the man Logan knows as Nadler, but I suspect it is not the right one.”

I frowned. “Because we’re dealing with a face-shifter?”

“No, because Logan’s memory centers show signs
of recent intrusion. Whoever Nadler is, he obviously doesn’t want the form Logan sees to be known.”

“Suggesting he
could
be tracked through it.” That is,
if
the description we pulled from Logan’s memory was the right one, and not another means of subterfuge. If it wasn’t, then all of this had been a waste of time.

“Not necessarily,” Azriel commented.

I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was referring to our dance or our actions with Logan. I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer—especially if it referred to the former rather than the latter.

“Meaning what?”

“Well, it is obvious that the person behind the reworking of Logan’s memories is extremely powerful. Whoever it is also has enough knowledge about reapers to set up reasonably strong blocks.”

“And?” I asked, sensing there was such a block in place.

“It was done sometime today.”

I blinked. “They definitely knew we were going after Logan.”

“Yes.”

He said it flatly, with no emotion in his voice or his expression, but nevertheless, my hackles rose. “If you name Lucian as a possible suspect, I’ll—” What? What threat could I possibly make to someone like him?

“Whoever is behind the stealing of the key has been one step ahead of us for a while. Lucian is a suspect, whether you wish to acknowledge it or not.” He held up a hand, cutting off the angry reply that was on my lips. “But there are other options. Jak knew we were going after Logan. As did your accountant.”

I snorted. “It could hardly be Jak, since he knows nothing about reapers, and Mike only knew I wanted the tickets to get a reporter friend in. Neither of them is a very likely suspect.”

“I agree.”

Which left us with Lucian. He didn’t say the words, but they hung between us all the same.

“I haven’t talked to him since I ordered him out of the apartment, Azriel.”

“But he
has
formed a telepathic link with you. He may never need to talk to you again.”

And that, if his tone was anything to go by, would be an extremely welcome event. “Only trouble is,” I retorted, “it’s a link that’s become somewhat faulty.”