She gazed up at him through narrowed eyes. “You won’t trick me a second time.”
“I know.”
“You would take my sigil, bind yourself to me?”
He’d been expecting it, but all the same, everything inside him revolted from the idea. He couldn’t force any words out, but he managed a brisk nod.
“For two thousand years.”
Shit. “That seems fair.”
“I know, whatever you say, that you don’t feel as you did long ago. But once we are together, you will remember the love you bore me.”
Yeah, of course he would. Like never. “Give me a day,” he said.
“I’ll give you until dawn.”
And she was gone. He should feel euphoric; he was about to save the whole goddamn world. Instead, a strange pain filled his chest. Just like his heart was breaking.
…
“I can’t do it,” she ground out for about the fiftieth time that night.
Jonas scowled. “Of course you can. You locked it. You can open it.”
Jonas was convinced that there was something locked up tight inside her. Some essential part of her being. She’d like to argue with him, but deep down—actually not that deep—she knew he was right.
Meeting the Walker had awoken a lot of old memories, and one of her earliest was her father, telling her to lock the light away. Lock it away or the bad people would find her, and they would kill her and her mother. So with the help of her father, she had locked it away. How had they done it? She couldn’t remember, and she couldn’t undo it.
And did she really want to? What had been so terrible that it had to be buried so deep?
It was where her healing powers came from. Because however tight it was locked down, just a little trickled out.
She reckoned she needed a chat with the Walker. Glancing down, she caught sight of the ring she still wore around her neck. Maybe she should call him.
She bit her lip and knew she wasn’t ready yet.
Soon.
“Come on, Rosamund, one more time.”
“I told you—I can’t!”
“Am I interrupting something?” Piers’ voice came from behind her, and she whirled around to find him leaning against the open doorway. Her insides melted. He was smiling that slow, lazy smile, though his eyes were guarded, and she went instantly alert.
“She has power, and she refuses to use it,” Jonas said, his tone disgusted.
“I don’t know how.”
“I thought we might take the rest of the night off,” Piers murmured, his gaze traveling down over her body so the melting bits started to smolder.
“You did? Can we do that?”
“Sweetheart, we can do anything we like. I’m the boss.”
Beside her, Jonas snorted, but all her attention was on Piers.
They’d grown closer over the last week, but Piers had been phenomenally busy, and their time together had been snatched moments. She grasped his hand and didn’t look back as he hurried her out of the room. Piers didn’t talk on the way and once the door to his apartment was closed behind them, he dragged her into his arms and kissed her, not giving her a chance to say a word. She didn’t care.
She kissed him back, her hands sliding into his hair.
He stripped her quickly. When she was naked, he turned her, placing her palms against the wall. His lips nuzzled her neck, and a wave of liquid heat poured through her body. He kissed his way down her spine, and flames shot along her nerves, all meeting in her belly.
Piers fell to his knees behind her. His big hands kneaded her buttocks. She felt his cool breath against her skin, his mouth tasting her, his tongue licking, his teeth nipping at her flesh as though he could devour her. A moan of demented pleasure trickled from her tightly clamped lips.
His moist tongue traced the line of her ass to her sex. She felt him push inside her, and only his hands holding her kept her from falling.
He parted her legs further, and his fingers replaced his mouth thrusting into her, rubbing until her hips jerked in time to his movements.
His fangs grazed her inner thigh then plunged into the vein as the pad of his thumb caressed the tight little bud at the center of her being. She came in an explosion of color behind her closed lids and kept on coming as he sucked at her vein and his thumb massaged her clit.
Finally, when she thought she would go mad from the pleasure, he swiped his tongue over the small wound and withdrew his fingers from her sex.
As her legs gave way, he rose to his feet and picked her up in his arms. She was naked and he was fully dressed, and she clung to him as he carried her through and laid her on the bed.
He stripped quickly, his erection huge, and a ripple of residual pleasure ran through her.
She welcomed him with open arms. He came down onto her and into her in one fluid move, and she gasped as he filled her. Then she let her mind go blank as the wildness of his lovemaking swept her away.
Afterwards, as pleasure still racked her frame, he kissed her and smoothed the hair from her face until she drifted away into an exhausted sleep.
Twice more in the night he woke her and made love, until her body ached with the overload of pleasure. After the third time, he spoke the first words since they had entered the room.
“I love you.”
She was sure she heard, and she wanted to answer him, tell him she loved him. But she was drifting into unconsciousness…
When she woke again, a sense of wellbeing rolled over her. She reached for Piers but found him gone.
Instead, on the pillow beside her, lay the Key.
Chapter Twenty-two
In a flash, the wellbeing was gone, replaced by a sense of nothingness. Roz hadn’t realized, but Piers had been there lodged in her mind, and now he was gone.
She grabbed the Key and scrambled out of bed. Her clothes were scattered on the floor by the front door, and she pulled them on. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was just after five. Dawn. Maybe that was all it was—Piers was asleep. But where? Why not in his apartment? Her mind hunted for answers but came up with nothing. Besides, she usually knew when he was sleeping; he was still in her mind but muted. Now where he had been was a great big empty place.
She ran out of the apartment and stood for a moment, unsure where to go. Who to go to.
Christian would be at home with Tara. No doubt, Jonas would be at The Crooked Hat.
In the end, she took the elevator up to reception. Graham was at the desk. He glanced up, his smile fading as he caught sight of her face.
Did she look that bad? Obviously, she did.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Have you seen Piers?”
He shook his head. “No, but I can page him if you like.”
“Please.”
She gripped the edge of the desk while he pressed a few numbers. “He’s not answering.”
Roz had expected nothing else, but still a shaft of fear shot her in the gut, so she swayed. Suddenly, she realized something. Last night, he’d been saying goodbye. The bastard. He’d been making beautiful love to her and all the while, he’d known it was for the last time.
But why? What had happened? Where had he gone?
She shook her head, forcing her mind to function. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get him back.
“Is anyone else around?” she asked.
“Jonas.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m here,” he said from behind her.
She turned slowly. He was watching her, with something in his eyes that looked suspiciously like pity.