Demon Demon Burning Bright, Whisperings book four (31 page)

I wished I could tell him the truth. “What
makes you think that?”

“They’ve always helped us, guided us.
Something turned them against us. If not the Cousins, who?”

“They don’t work for your benefit, Lawrence;
haven’t for a long time. Will you believe me when I say you’re
wrong? The Seers acted alone.”

“I don’t know, Miss Banks. We banished the
Cousins but we’ve let them use the Ways a few times when there was
a good reason, like when they went to Russia with you and Ryel
because that man was killing my people and theirs.” He paused, went
on with a faint flush on his bronzed complexion, “And I wanted to
see what they looked like.”

I grinned at the memory of Lawrence’s snooty
reception; it certainly put Gia in a snit. “You
were
rather
rude to them, Lawrence.”

“I know. They didn’t look like anything
special. I thought the stories were exaggerated, till Shan came. If
he came here without permission, what’s to stop them coming and
going as they please? Maybe they do it all the time. They could be
here right now and we wouldn’t know.”

I tried to smile again but my mouth refused
to cooperate. I tried to come up with a reasonable argument, but
said, “Don’t worry about it, Lawrence.”

“I have to, Miss Banks. I’m the High
Lord.”

The conversation made me uncomfortable and I
had a hard time meeting his eyes, so I let my gaze drift across the
room. Gryphon watched Lawrence from where he stood near the
door.

“He says he’ll abdicate the Seat,” Lawrence
said.

“How do you feel about that?”

“I want to rule, but it’s his, isn’t
it.”

“Not if he doesn’t want it.”

“Perhaps he should. I’m . . . I’m only a
boy.”

But he wasn’t only a boy. He possessed
innate power when he chose to wield it. I grasped his shoulders and
gazed into his shining brown eyes. “You were meant to be High Lord.
It’s your destiny. Your father doesn’t want it, but he gave your
people a worthy successor. He gave them you, Lawrence. Your
councilors, your father, are here for
you
. You’re in good
hands now.”

He pushed his shoulders up, gave me a
measuring look. “I think I am.”

As I dropped my hands, he grabbed my right
and turned it palm up to reveal the button. The High Lord’s burden
seemed to lift from his shoulders and a child with ardent,
sparkling eyes smiled at me. “Can I try it?”

“Sure.”

He pressed the button; the flame rose about
me. Lawrence laughed; his fingers came through the flickering
blue-white flames to brush my shoulder.

“This is what frightened us, illusion?”
Darja said.

“Can I put it on? Will it fit me?” from
Lawrence.

I smiled. “We can make it fit. But you’ll
have to excuse me while I find somewhere private to take the damned
contraption off.”

I turned my hand and held his. “Lawrence,
about the Dark Cousins. Don’t believe everything you read.” I
remembered what Gia said. “History can be rewritten.”

But as Royal and I left the Council Chamber,
I looked back at Lawrence, pierced by a qualm. I heard Chris say,
“She has an ulterior motive.”
I saw Gia’s expression as she
gazed at the abandoned city. She lied so easily to get what she
wanted. The ancient, devious Mothers had all the time in the world
to scheme and see their plots reach fruition. Was the Seers’
downfall one tiny facet of a far-reaching plan?

Royal and I walked over the grass away from
the High House, taking the same route we used the first time he
brought me to Bel-Athaer. He said we could do the speed-demon thing
in a moment as we were unlikely to run into anyone in this
direction.

“Can we go to your apartment? We should
talk, and I don’t want to with Mel and Jack listening.”

“Of course.”

Why didn’t he at least hold my hand? Apart
from whisking me here, he had not touched me since our boisterous
reunion in the cavern.

“I told Lawrence he’s safe now. Is he?”

He walked beside me, hands limp at his
sides. “I don’t know, Tiff. We stirred the hornet’s nest. Our
people may bow to the High Lord, but not all will believe him. The
Seers held positions of trust. We relied on them. You can’t wrench
that out from under and not expect strife.”

I nodded glumly. “I know.” I slid my gaze at
him. “Have I made things worse?”

“Don’t be an idiot. And stop taking it all
on your shoulders. You were not the only player.” He stopped, faced
me. “Are you ready?”

He had to hold me now. I joined my hands
behind his neck, breathing in his spicy sandalwood and amber scent.
I smiled into his face.

He didn’t smile back.

“Royal, what is -
oof!
”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

I thought we’d be under Royal’s sheets by
now. We sat in the office with the desk between us, where he
steered us when he saw the mess in his kitchen and smelled the
odor.

Apparently Chris did not figure out how to
use the dishwasher.

I hadn’t had time alone with Royal to speak
of what Cicero said to me. Now I sat quietly as he told me what I
already knew.

When he finished, and sat facing me, lips
compressed in a tight line, I said, “You were wrong, you should
have told me. Every person has the right to decide their destiny.
But I understand, I do. You thought I was a half-breed.”

“Half-blood.”

“Same difference. My life is complicated as
it is, you didn’t want to pile that on my shoulders too.”

Why did I feel as if I hammered a brick wall
with my skull? He didn’t believe me. Not surprisingly, he thought
I’d be furious. I can’t say I was happy about what he did, and
didn’t do, yet I understood his motives when I looked at it from
his perspective. And maybe I’ve outgrown young Tiff, her fears,
insecurity, anger and distrust. Everyone has to grow up
eventually.

“I
do
understand.”

“Do you? Because I feel monumentally
craven.”

“Why?”

“At first, I believed it was for your own
good, but I said nothing as time passed because I dreaded losing
you.”

Aw
. “We’re not clichés in a romance
novel, Royal.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If we were, I’d be saying, ‘oh no, he
deceived me, it was all a lie, he never loved me!’”

I waited. No response. “You’re supposed to
say it wasn’t a lie,” I said dryly.

Eyes narrowed, brow creased with remembered
pain, he said fiercely, “Tiff, when I left you that night, I knew
what humans mean when they say their heart is breaking.”

He held my gaze, sucking me into his
polished copper eyes. He swallowed hard. “You are so much more than
I imagined. You spoke of destiny. You cannot fulfill yours in this
world.”

Something painful welled in my throat. “What
do you mean?”

He picked up a ballpoint pen and clicked the
end. “Lawrence wants you on his Council.”

I pushed up to hunch over the desk. “When
did this happen? He didn’t say anything to me.”

“He asked me to tell you and help you get
your affairs in order before you leave.”

I leaned back in the chair, cocked my ankle
over the other knee. “You mean go live in Bel-Athaer? That ain’t
gonna happen.”

“Please consider carefully, Tiff.”
Click.
“Cicero was a wealthy man: property, investments,
etcetera, as well as a good chunk of hard cash. Lawrence stripped
him of the lot, it belongs to you now. In addition, you have the
High Lord’s favor. You can have power, influence. You can do so
much for Bel-Athaer.”

I didn’t ask if he wanted me to go. His eyes
and posture told me otherwise. How can eyes say so much? Longing,
despair, regret. Love. He sat so tense, the sinews in his neck and
backs of his clenched hands stood out and that muscle in his jaw
jumped so fast I wanted to kiss it better.

“Bel-Athaer needs you and you will give up
an incredible opportunity if you stay here.”

I eyed him carefully. “You’d be with me,
right?”

“No doubt we would see each other on
occasion, when I came to the High House on business,” he said
stiffly.

“If I accept the offer, I virtually end our
relationship.”

“You would be so far above me, I would not
see you for the clouds.”

How stinking poetical.

Damn demon and his damn sense of duty. I
wanted to grab him and kiss him so thoroughly he couldn’t breathe.
He felt duty bound to tell me I should work for Lawrence, to stress
it was in my best interests to accept a position of power, to claim
my so-called birthright - birthright? What a joke - but did he
want
me to? No. Royal believes in the greater good, be it
taking me to the execution of a mortally wounded woman before her
time so she tells her secrets, or risking the woman he loves
leaving him.

To try and talk me out of leaving because he
didn’t want to lose me would, to his way of thinking, be selfish
because he
did
want the best for me. He would give me up if
I’d be happier and more fulfilled elsewhere. I couldn’t get mad and
brush that aside as if it meant nothing.

So I decided to be gentle with him. I pushed
up from the chair and went around the desk. Sliding my behind along
the desktop, I sat on the edge with my legs between his knees.
“It’s up to me, huh?”

He glanced away, hand toying with the pen.
“I’m sorry.”

I bent over him. “Sometimes your head is so
far up your ass.” Smiled as his eyes shot back to me. “Now listen
up and listen good. I know who I am. I’m a homegrown, small-town,
all-American girl who carries a gun and happens to see dead people.
I’m right where I want to be. I’m not going anywhere. You have a
problem with that?”

He opened his mouth; I covered it with my
palm, then leaned down and replaced it with my lips. I put
everything I had into that kiss. His lips softened on mine.

I pulled back and gasped in air. “I repeat,
do you have a problem with that?”

His body had relaxed, his hands unclenched.
“No, none at all.” Eyes dark, he stared into mine as if he tried to
penetrate my soul.

He cupped my cheek with one big, warm palm.
“I missed you so much.”

I leaned in again until my breath played
over his lips. “Prove it.”

I saw the wicked glint I’d missed terribly,
the look which made my blood sing. He pulled me onto his lap so my
legs straddled his thighs.

He nuzzled my neck. “I missed you in every
way imaginable.”

I wriggled. “Mm, I can tell.”

He concentrated on unbuttoning my shirt.
Remembering past times, I felt relieved he didn’t rip it off.

I wriggled again, then settled into a
leisurely sway. Oh my. I seemed to have forgotten how to breathe
properly.

He held my waist and put me on my feet. I
pouted. He chuckled. Pouting is not one of my skills.

Taking our time, we undressed each other,
hands drifting over skin as it was bared. The thick column of his
neck, his shoulders, his mounded chest and pebbled nipples, the
long lines of bones upholstered in flesh and muscle. The curve of
his buttocks and thighs as I eased his jeans down. I tasted him,
the spiced honey of his skin. I tangled my hands in his heavy hair
as he held me under my buttocks and lifted me off my feet.

My legs circled his waist, he throbbed
against me.

He took us down to the carpet.

“Ah, this is why you had a thick-pile carpet
installed in an office,” I murmured.

I showed Royal how much I’d missed him. He
showed me how much he missed me. Then he showed me again, and
again.

In the circle of his arms, limp as an
overcooked noodle, I looked through my lashes at sparkling copper
orbs.

He smiled like the Cheshire Cat and purred,
“My turn.”

Still in a sweet, lethargic daze, I stopped
at the bottom of the staircase and looked up at our office
window.

“Want a ride, Sweetness?”

I jerked around. I had not noticed Chris
Plowman sitting on his Harley outside Bailey and Cognac’s door.

I glanced at the window again. No sign of
Royal, but I bet he knew a demon stood in the street below his
apartment.

“Nah. I’ll walk.”

“You’ll walk all the way home rather than
ride with me?” He clasped his hands over his heart. “I am
crushed.”

“My car’s two blocks away.”

He made beetle brows. “I’ll settle for two
blocks with your arms about me.”

“Are you heading back to Boston?”

“You’re trying to sidetrack me.”

“So you’re not heading back to Boston?”

“I’m thinking of selling up and returning to
England.” He tilted his head. “As old as Boston is, it still lacks
a certain . . . je ne sais quoi. The time has come to return to my
roots.”

I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand to
smother a snort.

Despite the possibility I may have wiped
something nasty on the back of my hand, Chris took it and pressed
his lips to my skin, eying me from under his lashes. “If you desire
a more passionate wooing than Royal can provide, lift your voice to
the stars and call my name.”

I opened my mouth to debate the suggestion
he could outdo Royal in the passionate wooing department, then
decided keeping it closed was prudent.

His expression became introspective,
serious, yet he said nothing more. I realized he waited for me to
ask the obvious question, so I did.

“You could have told me.”

His lips hiked on one side; he snorted
softly through his nose. “No, I couldn’t.”

“She put a geis on you?”

“She promised to, if I wasn’t a good little
boy.”

I let it go at that. Perhaps, without his
free will, Chris would not have been able to help me as much as he
did.

After nuzzling my hand again, he gave me a
soulful, heartbroken look. “I will dream of you.”