Make Me A Match (The Matchmaker) (17 page)

“Hello?” I cupped my hands together and peeked through the
window of the bakery. The place was empty. There weren’t even pastries under
the glass. Almost as if…as if the world had been abandoned, vanished.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, spinning around,
searching for signs of life.

They couldn’t all just disappear. The world hadn’t ended.
This wasn’t some post-apocalyptic movie. I’d find them. Or they’d find me with
their magical powers. And if I couldn’t find them, well, then I’d just look for
an opening and head toward the castle.

But as I turned a corner and the next street was empty too,
my panic returned. “This can’t be normal.” A heavy, sinking feeling of dread
washed over me. “Damn it, Owen, where are you?”

I started down another street, brushing against the stone
wall. It felt real and solid. But the crowds…I could hear the roar of their
conversation somewhere, out of reach. Where? Where was everyone? I braced my
hand against the wall of an empty shop, using the stone as support.

“Falconer! Jotham!” Their names echoed down the alley,
bounding off the stone walls.

No one responded.

I froze where two alleys intersected, indecision holding me
captive. No movement. No people. Nothing but that hum of voices, just out of
reach. People I couldn’t quite find.

“Owen!” I cried out, my fear turning into anger. “Where the
heck are you?”

A shiver of awareness caressed my skin. A cold, bitter,
sickening feeling that said I wasn’t alone. I spun around, hoping to find
Falconer or maybe Jotham. No such luck. A huge dark form hovered at the end of
the alley. I knew immediately it was a demon.

“Hell,” I muttered.

He made the demon who had attacked me at my loft look like a
freaking Hello Kitty. Huge clawed feet thundered toward me. From his nostrils,
smoke trailed up in curling waves. A monster. A demon. He looked like a bull
crossed with the very devil. I didn’t know what the hell it was and I wasn’t
about to wait around and find out. I spun around, preparing to flee. The demon
suddenly appeared ten feet in front of me, his lips lifting into a snarl.

The scent of rotting carcass infused the air, making me gag.
“Oh God.”

“God won’t help you now,” he growled.

“Crap!” I spun around and ran full speed down the alley.
Weapon, I needed a weapon. My freaking self-defense wasn’t going to do any good
on this monster. I didn’t suppose he would readily tell me where his heart was
located.

I turned a corner and ran straight into a hard body. Firm
hands gripped my upper arms.

“No!” I lifted my fist and swung. My hand was easily caught
in a tight grip.

“Emma,” a familiar voice called out. “Emma, look at me.”

I forced my gaze to focus, my panic to recede. Owen stood in
front of me. I’d never been so happy to see him, but I didn’t have time to tell
him how I felt. With a cry, I shoved my hands into his chest, pushing him back.
“Run!”

Owen’s gaze shifted to the area past my shoulder. “Hell.” He
latched on to my arm and jerked me behind him, always the Protector.

“Damn right,” I said. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been where I always am…at the castle.”

I brushed off his response. If he didn’t want to talk about
his date with Petunia, then fine. “We need to get rid of him before he hurts a
human.” I glanced around the area in search of a weapon. “Where’s his heart?”

“I told you not to worry. I’m here to protect you.” Owen
lifted his hand and a fireball appeared.

Stunned, I could merely glare at him. He was here to protect
me? Was he joking? Where the heck had he been five minutes ago? Ten minutes
ago? Talk about leaving it to the last minute.

Owen threw the fireball and hit the demon directly in its
chest. The thing burst into flames, releasing a high-pitched screech that
raised the fine hairs on my body. I had only a moment to breathe a sigh of
relief, when Owen spun around and lifted his arm, throwing another fireball
directly over my head. I squeaked and jumped back against the wall. A second
demon behind us burst into flames. They burned quickly…too quickly. All that
remained were two piles of ash.

Their cries of outrage faded, leaving us alone. The sounds
of the city suddenly burst back into life, almost too loud. A couple strolled
down the street, chatting and laughing, not even noticing us. Life went on as
normal. Yep, everything was totally normal.

Owen was breathing heavily as he stepped closer to me. I
realized with a start that he was wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt. I’d never
seen him in anything but his dress clothes. Crap, he looked good. Really good.
I followed the tattoo designs up his forearms, to his muscled biceps.

“Are you all right?”

I jerked my gaze to his face and nodded. He looked good, but
he also looked angry. Glasses gone, dark hair mussed, jaw clenched. I
stiffened, immediately defensive. Why was he angry? I’d done nothing wrong.

“You will not take my Matchmaker out without my permission
again, do you understand?”

For a moment I thought he was talking to me. But no, he
wasn’t looking my way, his gaze had shifted to the alley behind me. Slowly I
turned and saw Falconer and Jotham standing there mutely. Both men looked so
shocked, with their wide eyes and gaping mouths, it was almost funny. Almost.
Where had they been when I’d needed them? So help me, if this had all been a
test…

Then suddenly Owen’s words pierced my muddled mind.
You will not take my Matchmaker out without
my permission again.

Owen hadn’t known I was going to town? But Falconer had
implied Owen was in a meeting, which was why he hadn’t come with us.

Falconer narrowed his eyes. “You forget yourself, young man.
You are not in charge here. You work for the Consulate.”

Owen took my hand in his, jerking me to his side in a way
that would have made a caveman proud. “No, lest you forget, I work for Emma and
only Emma.” He turned, pulling me with him, and for the moment I kept my mouth
shut. I glanced over my shoulder right before we turned the corner. Jotham was
smiling, but Falconer looked pissed.

“What was that about?” I demanded as soon as we were out of
sight.

“Mortalitas demon. They can produce an invisible wall,
blocking out other humans—”

“No.” I jerked my hand away from him. “Where the hell were
you?”

He sighed, raking his hands through his hair. “A meeting.”

My heart sank. “So Falconer was telling the truth? You left
me, your assignment, to go to a freaking meeting?”

“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He didn’t tell me he
was taking you. Damn it, he had no right to escort you outside the castle
without my permission.”

“Permission?” I stiffened. “I’m not a child.”

“Don’t make this about you.”

I laughed. “It is about me!” I spun around to leave, then
thought better of it, realizing that not only did I have nowhere to go, but
without Owen I was a freaking target for demons. I hated having to rely on him.
“I’m tired of being used. You and the Consulate want me to match, demons want
my energy, and vampires…well, we don’t know what they want, but it’s obviously
something.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know.”

But at the moment, it wasn’t so much my powers that angered
me, but his lack of emotion. “Where the heck were you?” Yeah, I was angry.
Angry that he hadn’t known until the last minute. Angry that after admitting he
liked me, he’d disappeared for days.

He grasped my hands, holding me captive. “I’m sorry. I came
as soon as I sensed you.”

He looked so dang sincere that my anger fled. God, we were
both being used here. It wasn’t his fault, it was mine for relying on him, for
relying on anyone. I’d learned long ago to count only on myself, but the more
time I spent with Owen, the less I seemed to remember how. And that scared me
to death.

I tore my hands from his and stepped back, putting distance
between us. Time to regain control. He’d wanted a professional relationship,
and I realized now that was what would be best. “What happened? How could this
happen?”

“I have a feeling,” he started, sounding exhausted and wary,
so unlike him. “That someone set you up to die.”

Owen

If I had been doubtful before, I was no longer.

Someone had betrayed Emma’s aunt, and now that same person
was trying to kill Emma.

I’d be damned if I’d let that happen.

“You’re not concentrating, Emma.”

She glanced over her shoulder, glaring at me. Yeah, maybe I
was being too hard on her, but the demon attack in town three days ago had made
me realize just how screwed we were. She’d been right all along…she needed to
know how to protect herself.

I leaned back against the wardrobe in her bedchamber and
watched her do a roundhouse kick toward the stuffed dummy hanging from the
chandelier, setting the crystals trembling. My nerves were still shaken. I
couldn’t get over the fact that because of the Consulate, she could have died.
For not the first time, I wondered what the hell Falconer had been thinking. Or
did he truly believe that he and Jotham had enough power to keep her safe? If
they were so bloody out of touch, they shouldn’t be running things.

I shoved an ottoman out of the way as she spun toward me.
I’d pushed the furniture back to the corners of her room, giving us plenty of
space. She might not be able to control her powers, but she sure as hell could
protect herself.

“I don’t see why we can’t train in the training room.” She
swiped her arm across her forehead and eased from her fighting stance into a
relaxed position.

Because I didn’t want anyone to know we were preparing.
She’d been trained in self-defense, had even taken a few years of tae kwon do.
But this…this fighting required skills she didn’t have. This wasn’t sparring
with rules and a referee; this was kill or be killed.

“Come on,” I said. “You were the one who insisted on
training. Remember in the US? You said you could protect yourself?”

She glared at me, snatching her water bottle from the desk.
“Of course you have to bring that up.”

“You’re thinking too much.”

She tossed her braid over her shoulder and sauntered toward
me. “And as a woman, of course, I shouldn’t think?”

“No, as a person trained to kill, you don’t have time to
think. React, instinct, you must learn to use them.”

I reached out, latching on to her arm, and straightening it.
Slowly, I drew my fingers over the sensitive spot behind her elbow.
“Here…there’s a pressure point.” I released my hold and slid my hand up the
back of her neck. “And here.”

Yeah, I was completely aware of her body so close to mine,
the heat, the shiver that raced over her skin as I slid my hand up the back of
her neck. I was aware, but I had to ignore it.

“With just a little pressure in the right spot, you can
bring a man to the ground.” I released my hold and stepped back. “But first you
need to trust your instincts.”

She frowned, rubbing the spot on her arm where I’d touched
her. “I do.”

“Oh, really?”

“Of course. In my line of business, I’ve had to rely on my
instincts.”

But I knew her better than she realized. I moved toward the
chair where I’d discarded my jacket and grabbed the blue silk tie. “Turn
around.”

She frowned, glancing at the tie warily. “Why?”

“Don’t you trust me?” I mocked. We both knew the answer to
that question, but I was daring her to admit it. She didn’t trust herself,
whether she realized it or not, and she sure as heck didn’t trust me.

She hesitated for a long moment. Finally with a sigh, she
turned, surprising me. I moved closer to her, my chest at her back, and slid
the smooth material over her eyes. Her silky hair brushed my fingers, that
vanilla scent driving me mad.

“Kinky,” she muttered.

I tied the ends, blindfolding her. “Not quite.”

“Then what are you doing?”

I leaned closer, my breath stirring the locks that had
drifted toward her neck. I didn’t miss the pulse that pounded in the side of
her throat. “Testing your instincts. Quiet your mind and your body, let the
answers come to you.”

“What the heck does that mean?”

I stepped back.

She spun around to face me. “Very funny, Emerson.”

I didn’t respond, merely moved a few more steps away, out of
reach, and waited to see what she would do. Yeah, I needed the distance as much
as she needed to practice. My mind didn’t like what she could do to me. My
body, good God, my body liked her…too much.

She placed her hands on her hips, standing there in a patch
of sunlight that pierced the white curtains. “I’m not playing this silly game.”

I didn’t move, didn’t say a bloody word. It served her
right, she hated not being in charge. But if there was one thing I’d learned,
it was that Emma couldn’t resist a challenge. Would she rise to the occasion,
or would she fail?

“Fine,” she snapped. “Do your worst.”

I appeared left, disappearing just as quickly. She felt a
stirring and swiped her arm wide, but I was already gone. Her frustrated sigh
had me grinning. There was something incredibly amusing about taunting her, and
for a brief moment all our issues, our worries, vanished.

“Nice try,” I whispered, appearing near her right side.

She turned, even knowing I was gone before she fully faced
me. “No using your disappearing powers! Not fair.”

“You think demons and vampires won’t use theirs?” I said in
her left ear.

She spun toward me and jabbed her arm. Her fist hit my
stomach. My grunt brought a smirk of satisfaction to her face. “Well, look at
that.”

But with a swoosh, I disappeared. She’d reacted quickly, had
diverted my attention with her comment. I wouldn’t make the same mistake.
“Quiet your body and your mind.”

“How can I when you’re constantly talking,” she said.

And there I was…grinning again. Nevertheless, she took in a
deep breath and relaxed her taut shoulders. Yeah, she’d relaxed, but she was
too relaxed. I appeared behind her and waited for her to sense me. Her
shoulders stiffened a moment before she spun around, fist raised.

I easily caught her hand in a tight grip. Before she could
try to break free, I pushed her back. Off-balance, her knees gave out and she
fell. I should have known she wouldn’t go down without a fight. She hooked her
foot behind my calf and pulled me with her. Now
that
, I hadn’t expected.

Together we landed on her bed. For one long moment we merely
lay there, too stunned to move. I didn’t dare remove her blindfold, afraid I’d
see the attraction in her gaze and wouldn’t be able to help myself. Her warm
breath fanned across my face, her sweet scent swirling around me.

“Very good,” I said softly, knowing I had to say something.

Her heart pounded against my chest, showing her nerves,
although her voice came out steady. “Not very good, you caught me.”

“Still, you were able to sense my approach.”

God, we were making asinine conversation, avoiding the truth
of the situation. She shifted and I became uncomfortably aware of her warm body
under mine. She reached for the blindfold at the same time I did. My hands
rested over hers, the blindfold still in place as we froze. Bloody hell, it was
too intimate. I couldn’t be next to her without wanting to kiss her.

“Emma,” I said, my voice strained. “We can’t—”

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

I stiffened, my fingers curling around hers. For one moment,
I thought about rejecting her. Knew I needed to escape before this became too
serious. But my body betrayed me and slowly I shifted, lowering my head. My
lips touched hers softly, savoring her sweet mouth. I wanted to sink into her,
to kiss her forever.

My conscience wouldn’t let me.

Just as she placed her hands on my shoulders, I pulled away,
my forehead resting against hers, our harsh breaths mingling. “I can’t stop,” I
whispered. “If I keep kissing you, I won’t be able to stop and we can’t do
this. We can’t.”

“Why, Owen?”

I moved away from the bed as she tore the blindfold from her
eyes. How the hell was I going to protect her when I couldn’t be near her? I
grabbed my jacket and shoved my arms through the sleeves.

“Why?” she demanded, sitting on the edge of her large bed,
looking confused and frustrated.

“We can’t, Emma,” I said, repeating the mantra like a good
soldier.

She surged to her feet, her hands fisted in anger. “Why?”

She wouldn’t let it go. Why couldn’t she let it go? “Damn
it, Emma, why can’t you just leave it alone?”

She started toward me, that determined glint in her gaze.
She wouldn’t relent. “Why!”

Frustrated, angry, I said the one thing I knew I shouldn’t.
“Because you can’t, Emma. A Matchmaker can’t know love.”

********

Emma

It took me two hours to find Owen. After searching the many
halls, after mentally calling for him, after even biting the bullet and asking
Petunia, who had assured me in a cold manner that she had no idea…a maid had
finally taken pity on me and suggested I try the library. The conference room
was empty and the door to the library had opened automatically for me, as if I
were now part of the house and welcome to go anywhere I pleased.

Even though it was my second visit, the place was still
majorly impressive. The rows and rows of shelves overwhelmed me. The area was
so large, the light couldn’t even reach the far corners of the domed ceiling.
How would I ever find him? Usually he was the one who found me. I started down
an aisle of biographies, feeling confused…almost lost. He couldn’t just do that
to me, damn him. He couldn’t kiss me, tell me I could never find love, and then
disappear. What the heck did he mean by it anyway?

Love in general? Or love with him? Heck, we’d just kissed.
That was all. Not like I was buying the latest issue of
Bridal Weekly
. But even as I thought the words, I knew better.
Eternity. I had eternity with the guy. How could I keep my feelings for him
under wraps? Then again, eternity was a freaking long time; most likely I’d
grow sick of him by next week.

I turned a corner, starting down yet another endless row.
The place seemed deserted, desolate, empty, much like how I felt. I didn’t
believe in love, did I? Yet I couldn’t mistake the euphoria I’d experienced
after setting up Paula with Tony. The feelings I’d experienced when I’d told
that French woman she could find her true love in Lyon. Love…pure, simple,
freeing…exactly what love
should
feel
like. Love shouldn’t make you desperate and needy, as it had with Mom. It
should make you happier, better in some way.

But believing in true love and soul mates went against
everything I’d ever known. Even my own mother hadn’t loved us enough, had she?
No, she’d given in to her own selfish need for attention and followed some guy
half her age across the country. Wasn’t a parent’s love supposed to be the
purest of all? I hadn’t even experienced that, so how could I possibly believe
in true, unflinching, uncompromising love?

I paused, leaning back against a smooth polished-walnut
shelf, my gaze going to the ceiling above, so high that it faded into darkness.
How could I possibly believe in love? Yet, when Owen pressed his lips to mine
with such strength and assuredness, I could almost believe in him. Maybe not
love…but him.

I closed my eyes, remembering the feel of his mouth on mine.
Just like that, a whispered indication of where he was called to me. I opened
my eyes.
Owen
. An unmistakable
feeling that told me to turn right. I turned and followed the aisle farther
into the darkness, not having a clue where I was headed but trusting my
instincts as Owen had wanted me to all along. At the end of the aisle I turned
left, and found a softly glowing lamp on a table. Just over the stack of books
I spotted Owen, his head resting upon the tabletop, his eyes closed.

Slowly, quietly, I went to him, my heart pounding harder
with each step closer. I could love him.
Oh
God
. My steps faltered, my heart stopped for one brief moment. This man I’d
only known for a month, this guy who protected me when no others had, this man
who took my pain even if it was a small scratch, this man who was so serious
and so intent on rescuing me even though I didn’t need it. I could love him.
And that scared the hell out of me.

My hands curled as I resisted the urge to reach out to him.
Slowly, my gaze moved down his face to his shoulders, down his arm to his
hands. His sleeves were rolled, showing off those intricate tattoos. I’d
noticed them on Josh as well, which meant they must have been some sort of
Protector initiation ritual. I started to reach for his hand, unable to stop
myself, when I noticed the books piled haphazardly about the table.

The Secret life of a
Matchmaker.

Curses and Cures.

Bemused, I pushed aside the books to reveal more journals
about Matchmakers, Protectors, and curses. He was researching…but why?
Shouldn’t he already know everything? I pulled the book closest to him toward
me and read.

Throughout time, no
Matchmaker has ever had a successful relationship. Because Matchmakers are
being punished by the gods, the curse states that they are not to know love of
their own. Any attempt to forgo your duties, especially in a relationship,
always ends in disaster. If a Matchmaker falls for a human, that human will
most likely meet a fateful death.

A cold weight sank into my gut. Never know love. Never date.
Never marry.

Owen shifted, lifting his head, but I didn’t move, merely
continued to stare at that passage. I couldn’t seem to breathe. Irony. How
ridiculous. I couldn’t experience love. Only a few weeks ago I hadn’t wanted
love. But now…

“Emma,” Owen’s voice was husky. “Bloody hell, did I actually
fall asleep? I never sleep.”

I jerked my gaze toward him. “I can’t get married?”

He was silent, watchful, wary as he reached for his glasses.