No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1) (14 page)

In the morning, I’d match it with a
messy pony and easy-going makeup, and be done with it. Well, I might add my
favorite silver cuff bracelet and some drop earrings of a similar style.

For now, I donned some comfy charcoal
leggings and a well loved, black and smoke, striped sweater-knit jersey Henley.
It had wonderful extra long sleeves and fell to just below my butt. It was cozy
and snuggly, just what I needed. My feet were freezing on the cold hardwood
floor, so I pulled on some nice, thick socks before heading to the kitchen for
some hot tea.

When I opened the cabinet containing the
boxes of teas and bags of coffee, I pushed—quite gruffly—Gideon’s cinnamon
spice tea clear to the back behind a can of cocoa, and instead pulled out a
nice
sleepytime
tea blend. I put the kettle on to
heat and skated in my sock feet off to the bathroom to wash away my sultry
makeup, hoping my woebegone feelings would swirl away down the drain with the
mascara, eye shadow, and powder.

~
Chapter Sixteen ~

I’m
running.

I had my horse, Eyvindur, just moments
ago, but I’ve gotten separated from him, pulled off and now I don’t know where
he is.

It’s so dark out, so late at night, I
should not be out by myself, and fear has my heart lodged in my throat.

The dark ones are here.

They are looking for me.

Rain is pouring down in sheets so thick
it’s hard to see very far ahead. I’m pressed against a wall so tightly that I
can feel the wood siding digging into my flesh beneath my top. I’m trying to
figure out where to go from here. I don’t know the area, this part of the city.
I don’t know where to run or to hide. Can I find my way to Elysium? It can’t be
far. I think.

 I peer around the corner of the
house and no one is out there on the street, or on the sidewalk. I can’t just
stay here, in someone’s side yard. I have to go somewhere. I’m drenched and I’m
shivering and I’m lost. I want to sit down and let the tears take over. I’m
exhausted and lost in so many ways, but I know if I don’t move they’ll find me
again.

There is no time to cry.

So instead I run blindly, trusting my
feet and some sort of extra sense, to take me in the right direction. I keep
going until I begin to recognize some of the homes. I’m in Liam’s neighborhood,
so Elysium is not much farther.

Then my back is suddenly on fire and I
cry out in pain as I’m thrown to the ground, landing in the wet, mushy grass of
someone’s lawn. All the air rushes from my lungs as I strike the turf front
first. Before I can drag any air into my body I’m flung onto my back and
someone straddles my body, pinning me down.

The rain is hammering down onto my face,
into my eyes as I try to see the face of my assailant. I’m kicking my heels
into the ground, trying to get some sort of traction, trying to push out from
under this…thing. I finally draw a breath, but I don’t scream. I should scream
for help. But instead I keep fighting.

The deluge lessens and I can see now as
her hood falls away, spilling white-blond hair forward and revealing the
beautiful face of this woman, the eyes filled with death, my death. In all my
gothic, vampire club days I’d never seen anyone this pale—and that’s saying
something—and she means me harm, serious, deadly harm.

And I’m suddenly still inside, even
though we are struggling against each other, her trying to pin my arms, me
trying to push her away. I go still and quiet inside…and I’m gripped by it,
this calm, and I feel a sharpness, an acuity of truth…of…some sort of
intellect…or wisdom. And then I’m speaking words out loud. Words I don’t
know…but I
do
know. Words that are powerful. Are power.

And I see shock in her dark, bottomless
eyes, and disbelief. The words are ancient. I
know
they
are. And they are not of this world. Not mortal.

They freeze my attacker. And I feel
power surge forth from me, like a blast from a furnace. She flies backwards off
of me. I should be shocked too. I should be stunned with the power. Stunned by
the words that I just uttered in a deep and deadly tone with complete assurance
and awareness. Astounded that I just did this.

But I’m not. It was exactly what I had
expected from those words.

I get up and I run again, because I know
she wasn’t the only one. If she found me, so could any of the others. I need
the protection of my Cerberus.

I’m running up the walk to Elysium and
there is Liam, walking out the front door. At first he smiles when he spots me,
and my heart reacts immediately. That smile makes everything okay. But it
falters. His smile fades, and he looks scared. I look behind me, but no one is
there. I dart up the steps and crash into him, pushing him back into the
entrance. Back into the safety, the sanctuary, that Elysium is.

His arms wrap around me as he slams the
door and locks it.

I burst out, words erupt out of me. I
tell him, breathlessly, looking into his eyes, my body shaking.

“Something dark is coming.”

~
Chapter Seventeen ~

I
woke up hugging one of my pillows, my heart racing with remnant fear.

 I quickly shoved the pillow away.

 It wasn’t Liam. I’d just been in
Liam’s arms and it was where I really wanted to be.

This was so aggravating.

Nightmares, just plain weird dreams, and
unrequited.

Well, not love, but something more than
just lust. No, not even unrequited.

He definitely requited!

He was just really good with
abstaining…sort of.
Urgh
!

A rough night’s sleep was not what I
needed before my first cull assignment.

I was not up for this.

I rolled groggily toward my night table.
Ah
shite
! At some point I’d knocked my cup, partially
filled with tea, off the bedside table, and to the floor.

 I sighed.

Lovely nightmares. At least it had not
broken.

I hated the way this felt. I hated the
bad dreams. And I hated missing Liam. I think it was way worse to
know
someone
wanted you, but refused to be with you, spurned his feelings or attraction, or
whatever. And what the hell were these ‘dark ones’ and why was I dreaming of
them?

What ‘something’ dark was on its way?

It was more than just a dream. I could
sense that deep down, feel it my bones, in every fiber of me.

Oh yeah, and what language had I spoken?
So strange. I knew I had dreamed of it before. Had spoken it in other dreams.
It sounded familiar to my ears. Felt comfortable on my tongue. It sounded
similar to what Gideon and been speaking, but none of the words I had spoken
were the ones he had spoken.

So many thoughts paraded through my mind
as I got ready for the day.

Topmost was that somehow I had to find a
way to stash away, and forget about how I felt for Liam, how I felt when I was
near him or merely thought of him.

What had passed between us last night?
What had been that energy emanating from me? That was utterly new.

Culling aside, this was going to be a
very tricky day.

Thankfully,
I’d already showered, and dressed by the time the knock on the door came at
8:00 am.

“9:00 am…not 8:00 am…” I mumbled into
the bathroom mirror as I put a light coat of mascara on my lashes.

It had been a strange and rough night,
emotional and confusing on so many levels, and I found myself still in a
peculiar state of being.

Though I was pleased with how the apartment
was coming together—I was fairly confident I could turn this into a home—I was
completely at a loss as to what that dream meant, especially the end portion.

My dreams had become
so
weird.

And my heart was immensely bruised by
Liam.

So, by the time a resounding knock
echoed through my apartment a second time, I was feeling a combination of
gloominess, perplexity, anger, and petulance.

And just a dash of something else…that
from now on I will deny I feel.

I took a peep through the peek hole, as
a third, yet even more persistent knock resonated against my palms where they
lay on the door. It was Liam. Of course it was.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself
for…whatever may come.

“Good morning,” I said through my
plastered on smile, forcing cheer I was not feeling into my voice, trying my
best to be upbeat. He looked good. Of course. Simply and casually attired…and
absolutely yummy as usual.

“So, where to?” I pushed on quickly,
seeking to avoid any problematic conversation
.

“Not going to invite me in?” He asked in
that completely disarming and wonderfully accented voice of his, as if nothing
had happened last night.

“Not much to see,” I said brightly,
locking the door behind me.

“I know I’m early…I wanted to treat you
to a coffee, maybe talk.
” He smiled. But just as mine was
counterfeit, his too seemed not all genuine.

“Um, sure.” I answered with an inaudible
sigh. Talk. Great.

Elysium
was busy as usual, Gideon had a good side business here…or main business…I’m
not sure which it was. After being served our drinks, Liam led us to Gideon’s
private room. The same room where first I had met him, and fled from him.

Liam faltered at the threshold…and I
nearly ran into his back as I had that first night here, except this time he
was nearly awash in my latte.

Peering past him I saw Gideon, but he
was not alone. Had Liam known he’d be here? Was this about last night? Did
Gideon know about the club and what had passed between Liam and me? Did he know
of that golden and violet energy? Was he aware of my declaration to Liam?

Shit. Because last night hadn’t been
humiliating enough?

It was only a moment before I noticed
that he was not alone. On the couch—what had been my couch that night—sat
Halah. Standing at the edge of the fireplace was a young man with his back to
me. When he turned, I studied him briefly, found myself scrutinizing his face.
He did look slightly familiar. But why? I couldn’t place him. I cocked my head
slightly.

Or could I?

An awkward feel permeated the room, an
air of trepidation.

There was something recognizable about
the guy. Something that made my head spin and my stomach lurch in a very
unpleasant manner. My breathing began to come in labored, shallow bursts, and I
fell slightly against the door jamb to hold myself up as a wave of vertigo
descended through me.

Then my heart seemed to stop, seemed to
actually miss a beat as recollection dawned.

I knew exactly who he was.

He’d been at my party. Everything in me
went still—deadly still—as I looked at him. He’d been the one that gave me the
death cocktail. The one that had ended me. Ended Isabelle Finne. He’d been the
one that killed me.

Ice water whirled through my veins. I
walked to him without any further hesitation, quite pointedly, stopping
directly in front of him, not even an arm-span away.

“I remember you.” So simply stated. My
voice low, smooth. So much like what I felt building inside, rumbling in my
head.

With only half awareness I saw Gideon
rise from his chair.

“Why is he here?” I posed the question
to Gideon, my voice seething, icy smooth. Gideon didn’t have a chance to
respond, before
he
did.

“I’m sorry,” Max said. “It wasn’t
personal.”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t know what happened, I had the
right name. I had the right girl.”

“Sorry…” The word was not registering in
my iced over brain. What? The right name? The right girl?

He looked to Gideon.

“This is your fault, you did this to
me,” I wailed and wrapped my hands around his throat.

I had moved so swiftly. But I didn’t
give myself pause to mull that over. Anger. Hatred. Flashing through my mind
and body, blazing a trail from my heart to my hands. I’d never known that rage
could burn so cold.

“You destroyed me. You destroyed
everything.”

The world flew apart at the exact same
moment. All hell broke loose inside me. All the rage, disgust, hatred, loss,
and anguish—that had nowhere to land before—blew up and fell upon this one
person.

Liam and Gideon were pulling me off Max.
I knew this was his name because somewhere in the frigid haze I could remotely
hear Halah screaming it.

Arms wrapped around me, around my waist
and shoulders. They were Gideon’s. Liam was busy prying at my fingers where
they relentlessly squeezed at the young man’s neck.

“Calm down, Iliana. Come on…let’s calm
down.” Gideon’s arms tightened. “You can’t do this. Let him go.” His words
spoken into my ear so softly.

My contact was broken, Gideon pulling my
arms away from Max and down and around myself, hugged to my body tightly with
his own arms, wrapped around my body from behind.

“
Shhhh
,”
softly in my ear again.

I was crying. I could feel the warm
tears tracing a path down my cheeks. Shouldn’t they be cold? How were they
warm?

Gideon, without loosening his hold,
dragged me away to an adjoining room; I dimly realized that I hadn’t noticed it
before. He kept me crushed back against his chest, keeping my arms pinned with
his, all the while I bucked and kicked like a ferocious thing. I wanted to get
back to Max, to finish the job I’d begun. They wanted to see some culling, some
proper reaping? I’d show them something!

I pushed against Gideon, trying to
loosen his grip, wanting only—with every bit of primal urge housed within my
body—to get back at Max, and deliver the same amount of pain to him as I’d been
dealt.

Gideon pushed the velvet covered French
doors shut with a foot, locking us away from the others.

“Come on…
shhhh
,
let’s calm down. We can’t do this.
Shhhh
,” he
repeated, murmuring in my ear, softly, soothing.

His voice, as always, seemed to entwine
through me gently, enticingly, assuaging my rage, turning it to something else.
Was this one of his talents as a Caomhnoir? Was it the influence his voice had
on me? Or simply the affect of
him,
being near him?

I wanted to melt into him. The back of
my head pressed into his shoulder. His five o’clock shadowed cheek—well, more
like a nine o’clock shadow—pressed to mine.

And I was suddenly acutely aware of his
nearness, more than just him holding down my rage, but the length of my body
against the length of his.

The ferocity was draining from me and
being replaced by that,
something else
that I felt every time I was near
him. Not fascination. Not desire. Not exactly anyway. It was something more
complex and more disconcerting.

And that scent, his scent. The one from
last night, at the club, that had so completely pulled me back from the edge
with Liam. That mesmerizing mingling of woods, moss, and spice; faint leather,
and subtle smokiness—it softened me, softened my fury and I relaxed into him,
into his body. I turned my face more to his.

“You’re okay, everything will be okay. I
promise. This will be a good life. I’m here to help you,” he spoke so gently
into my hair as he held me still. It made me tremble.

My eyes met with his and there was a
look in them. I’d seen a hint of that the night before. A glimpse of kindness,
a gentleness and warmth. And for a second, I could swear that we both stopped
breathing.

“I’m going to let you go,” he began.

 Why did everyone keep doing
that…letting me go?

“You’ll stay calm?”

I nodded. I didn’t want him to let go,
but whatever hold I’d even briefly had over him was broken.

My body was suddenly too cold and too
desolate. I didn’t want him to be away from me. It had to just be the trauma
catching up, right? I mean, to miss Gideon? To want
him
close to me?
That was all backwards.

“It’s all going to be alright.” He sat
me down on the nearby Queen Anne settee. He remained standing. I’m sure on the
ready to catch me if I bolted for the door.

I wrapped my arms around myself, oddly
missing the feel of his. “How can you say that? You tell me that I can never go
back home, that everyone I know, everything I had, I have to leave behind.
Well, I mean, Liam did, but by your direction. I wasn’t supposed to pack a
single thing. I was expected to just leave everything; Liam said…he was so
worried because I
did
take things. So worried that you’d have his ass.”

“We work a sort of relocation package,
when a new member joins the
Bháis
, something along
the lines as witness protection. You were not supposed to bring anything along
from your old life. The risk you put yourself and Liam in is…” he just shook
his head grimly, words evading him, stroked his face roughly with his hand,
“the unwanted attention you could have caused to be focused on us…”

“And what about my friends, and family?
I just have to leave them all behind too?”

He didn’t say anything. He nodded,
sighed, and looked down at the rug. Was that an actual look of…perhaps
compassion? He studied me for a scant moment. Was he finally responding to my
quiet tears? Could he feel my anguish?

“I can never speak to them again?”

“You need to cut off any links to your
past identity.”

“I can’t do this, I thought I could, I
don’t think I can,” I said hopelessly.