Piers strolled back to them. “Close it,” he said to Asmodai.
Asmodai waved a hand in the general direction of the portal, and the doorway vanished.
“I’ve been hankering to do that for a long, long time,” Piers said, wiping his hands down his leather pants.
“Is that how you kill a vampire?” Roz asked.
“Heart and head,” he said. “You think you might ever use the information?”
“You never know.”
“We’ve got to get out of here before the police arrive,” Christian said. He turned to Asmodai. “Are you coming?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, I’d like to keep an eye on my investment.”
Did he mean her? Of course he did. But right now, she just couldn’t get worked up.
She was alive. Jack was dead.
And Piers was sorry about last night. Well, she’d have to wait and see just how sorry he was and just how he meant to make it up to her.
Very sorry, she hoped.
Chapter Seventeen
Piers was silent on his way back to the vehicles, but he walked close beside her, and she could sense his occasional sideways glance. She was unsure of his mood, though some strong emotion was rolling off him in waves.
Two vehicles were parked around the corner, a black van and a SUV. As they drew closer, she could make out Maria and Ryan sitting in the front seat of the van, and relief rushed through her.
Ryan saw them and jumped out, running toward her. He wrapped his arms around her in a big hug, and for a few seconds she relaxed against him, glad they were all alive and in one piece.
“Hey, you’re alive.”
“I am, and virtually untouched.” Though she could still feel the sting of the knife wound at her throat. “Are you two okay?”
“Yeah, we’ll be fine.” He stepped back but still held her loosely. “Thanks to you.”
She shrugged. “It was nothing.”
“Don’t lie. You could have just left us, but you didn’t.”
She shrugged again. She wasn’t good at accepting thanks; they made her twitchy. Sensing Piers tensing beside her, she glanced sideways at him. He was staring at the point where Ryan still held her, and his upper lip was curling into a snarl. She shifted and stepped back, freeing herself. “Come on, we have to go.”
“Actually, I have to get back to work,” Ryan said.
“Will there be people looking for you?” Christian asked.
“Not yet—yesterday was my day off, and I didn’t have any plans, except sleeping.”
“And maybe some housework?” Roz suggested.
Christian ignored the comment. “Then you come back to the Order with us. You need debriefing.”
Roz sniggered at the word. “Sorry,” she said when everyone turned to look at her. “I’ve never actually heard anyone say that. ‘Debriefing’—it’s sort of…” She trailed off and shrugged. It wasn’t her fault none of them had a sense of humor.
Ryan appeared undecided. She’d rather this didn’t get physical, and she was sure the debriefing thing wasn’t optional for the detective. Though she supposed Piers or Christian could just mesmerize him into going with them. She’d rather they didn’t do that to her friends either. “Wouldn’t you like to know what this is all about?” Roz said, sure that would tempt Ryan.
“You mean they’ll tell me?”
“Why not? You know a lot already.”
“Too much?” he asked, and she realized he believed his life was in danger. Hell, maybe it was. She glanced at Piers and Christian. Piers just looked impatient to be off.
Christian answered. “You won’t come to any harm at our hands, Detective. But we do have to decide how to deal with the fact that you know about us.”
“Deal?” He turned to Roz. “You trust these people?”
“Yeah. If they say no harm, then they mean it.”
Roz believed that, but she’d bet he might come away from the place minus a few memories. Probably best not to tell him, though—most people didn’t like the idea of anyone screwing with their minds.
“Can we go now?” Piers said.
Carl and his men had already climbed into the back of the larger van. Sister Maria was still seated in the front, though a quick glimpse showed that some of the color had returned to her face. Ryan got in beside her, and Christian got in the driver’s seat.
“I’ll make my own way there.” Asmodai said. “But first, I need to give a few people a heads up that Andarta has the Key. As soon as I’m done, I’ll meet you at the Order.” He took to the air. That just left her, Piers, and the Warlock for the second vehicle.
“Can you drive, Jonas?” Piers asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, get in, then.”
…
Piers ushered her into the backseat and climbed in beside her. He was trying to keep a tight grip on his emotions. Mainly because he wasn’t sure what they were yet, and until he was, maybe he’d better keep quiet about them.
He could smell the sweet scent of her blood, and it was driving him insane—a reminder that he had come so close to losing her tonight. He forced down the urge to hold her. Instead, he turned slightly so he could see the dark streak of blood down her throat where the knife had nicked her skin.
Hell, he’d seen the knife jerk in Jack’s hands, and he’d thought she was dead.
He couldn’t resist any longer. Reaching for her, he grabbed her by the upper arms, and hauled her onto his lap. He expected her to put up a struggle, but instead, she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and burrowing her head in his chest. All the tension went out of her. Then she was shaking.
He held her tight and just let her get through it.
After a few minutes, she raised her head. “Sorry, I thought I was okay—I don’t usually lose it like that.”
He liked the fact that she let herself go with him. She acted so tough, but underneath…well, he wasn’t sure what was underneath; she kept it so well hidden. He was sure no one else knew either.
She was clearly coming down from the adrenaline high.
His gums ached with the urge to feed. He reined his hunger in, but lifted her chin with one finger, bent his head, and licked his tongue along the line of her throat, cleaning the blood, lapping at the small wound.
She made a small sighing sound, and her head went back, giving him better access. “That feels so good.”
“We have a chemical in our saliva that helps heal wounds.”
She lowered her head and regarded him. “That was more information than I wanted right now.”
An unpleasant thought occurred to him. “Have you slept with Asmodai?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
“I take it that’s a yes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I can quite honestly say that I have never slept with him. Now, if you’d asked me if I fucked him—well, that’s a whole different thing. And still none of your goddamn business.”
“And if I’d like it to be my business?”
She opened her mouth, no doubt to shout at him some more, but snapped it shut again. He’d actually managed to silence her. She stayed that way for what seemed like an age, staring out of the window.
“I was seventeen and a virgin. They’d burned my mother at the stake, and I’d just made a deal with a demon. He slaughtered those who had killed my mother, and he took me on the ground with the flames all around us and their screams still in my ears.”
Fury rose up inside him. “Bastard—I’ll kill him.”
She smiled. “No need. And in his way, he was good to me. I haven’t met many demons but I suspect things could have been far worse.”
“Was that the only time?”
“No. And he didn’t rape me then or later, if that’s what you think. I was scared, alone; he had saved me. I know it sounds pathetic, but I wanted him to want me. And in his way, I think he came to like me a little. ” She glanced at him suspiciously. “How long have you known it was Asmodai?”