At the same time, the screams of their secret companion echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the trees and soaring into the black sky above. There was a heavy thud as the body hit the ground behind me. I could hear the scrambling in the dirt as he writhed about, undoubtedly clawing at his flesh.
“Drop your weapons now, or your companion will be boiled from the inside out,” I threatened.
“Nomura,” Tetsuya whispered, his gazed locked over my shoulder.
“Do it now! He doesn’t have much time!”
“Agreed,” Hideo said, throwing down the sword strapped to his back. His companions quickly followed and then held up their empty hands in acquiescence.
Turning sideways, I looked over at Danaus, who released the Japanese nightwalker from the ugly grip of his powers. The nightwalker named Nomura stopped writhing about and curled up into a tight little ball on the ground, moaning.
“In case you were wondering, Danaus can more than take care of himself,” I said smugly. “Touch him again and he will not hesitate to kill you all. Touch anyone else in my domain and we will both hunt you down. I can sympathize with your desperation, and that is why I have spared your companion’s life.”
“How?” Hideo whispered.
“That’s my secret,” Danaus said in a low voice.
I took a step backward and put my sword in its sheath on my back. “Take your companion and return to your daylight resting place. My offer stands. You may stay in my domain for a few nights to give your companion some time to recover. Consider my plan. The elimination of Aurora may also succeed in helping your own people in Japan.”
“We do not welcome the Great Awakening, but working with the naturi to avoid such a fate is equally abhorrent to us.”
“I’m not thrilled with the idea either, but we have been backed into a corner.” I frowned. “It’s time to make some tough decisions.”
“Agreed,” Hideo said with a slight sigh, sounding tired for the first time. I couldn’t blame him. Dawn was drawing close and it had already been a very long night.
Cautiously, the three members of the Soga clan approached their fallen member and carried him from the clearing, keeping as much distance from Danaus and myself as possible. Kojima paused long enough to pick up their weapons at the edge of the clearing.
When my eyes finally fell on Danaus, I considered rescinding my offer and burning all four of them to a crisp, but I got hold of my temper at the last second. Hurrying to the hunter, I put my hand over his, resting on his throat. He had been cut deeply enough that blood was leaking between his fingers, while a second more shallow wound had sliced through his shirt and cut through the flesh over his heart.
“I’m fine,” he reassured me in a low voice that danced across my skin.
“You’re not. That bastard cut you. He could have seriously injured you. I thought their goal was to kidnap you. How could I possibly agree to help them if they killed you?” I ranted.
“I honestly think it was an accident.” Danaus weakly smiled at me, trying to ease my fears and cool the anger bubbling just below the surface. “When I started to boil his blood, he jerked away from me, pulling the knife across my throat as he rushed to get away from me.”
Danaus lifted his hand, wiping away the blood to reveal a long, angry red cut, but at least the bleeding had stopped. I pulled away my own hand, covered in his blood, my fingers trembling. A deep, unrelenting longing rose in my chest, nearly dragging a whimper from my throat. I wanted to lick my fingers clean of his blood. I want to suck the blood from his fingers and run my tongue along this throat to clean away the last of his blood. And if I was honest with myself, something dark inside of me longed to sink my fangs in his throat and finally drink deep.
With jerky movements I grabbed the edge of his cotton shirt, wiped my hands clean of the temptation, and took a step away from him. It was more than the fact that Danaus would not let me drink from him. It was that I refused to ever allow a nightwalker to feed from him, including myself. Danaus was above such things. He was my lover and constant companion. He was too precious to ever become a source of sustenance. I wouldn’t allow it.
But that didn’t mean my instincts didn’t scream for his blood. Danaus understood that longing and was smart enough to give me space when I needed it.
“It’s been a long night. You need to feed,” he murmured.
“Yes,” I reluctantly admitted, looking away from him.
He placed his hand under my chin and tipped my head so I couldn’t hide from his direct gaze. “Go feed. I will take the car back to the city. Do you want me at the house?” His thumb gently stroked across my cheekbone, and my eyes slipped shut for a moment, easing some of the hunger pains.
“No need. It’s late. I will go directly to bed when I return to the house. I have much to think about tonight.”
“As you wish.” He leaned in and slowly pressed a kiss to my forehead. His motions were slow and controlled, careful not to set off any of my more predatory instincts when the smell of his blood was still wafting through the air. I could feel the turmoil churning within him as he walked away and I remained a silent ghost in his thoughts. He still struggled with my need to ingest human blood, but he was fighting to accept it. This relationship was not an easy thing, but we were trying.
Seventeen
Danaus found me seated on the floor in the sunny yellow bedroom at my house the next night. A shaft of thick moonlight shone through the open curtains, cutting a square on the ground and glazing the furniture in an ethereal silver glow. After Lily’s death, Danaus and I had pulled the sheets and blankets off the bed and washed them. We opened the windows, welcoming in a chilly early spring breeze in hopes of the fresh air washing out her scent. But no matter what we did to cleanse the room, I swore I could still smell her presence in there, even after the past few months. I closed my eyes and drew in a slow deep breath so the air filled my useless lungs. I held it, picking apart the scents of dust, laundry detergent, lemon-scent cleaning product, and finally Lily.
She had been so briefly in our lives. A child of the street with an amazing gift to see the auras of the people around her, Lily had been special to me. She had spirit and courage. She was quick and resourceful. She should have survived. At that moment she should have been safely ensconced at the Themis compound, being taught by the paranormal researchers in a positive environment. Instead, she now lay in a cold grave in a distant cemetery because a bori had used her to get to Danaus and me. We had failed her.
But then Lily wasn’t the only one haunting me. Just down the hall, Tristan’s room remained completely untouched from when he was last in there. When I returned home from Venice in December, I locked the door to that room and allowed no one to touch his things. I didn’t even go inside, but I could imagine the unused bed, rumpled from where he would lay on it as he read. The computer on his desk would be sitting in sleep mode, waiting for its master to return home so he could resume his search for new music. Books and magazines were haphazardly scattered about the room, while a pile of laundry lay in one corner, waiting to hit the washing machine. I knew his unique scent would be thick in the air. If I entered his private domain, I would be lost to the horror of our past.
I replayed that night in Venice and doubts ate at me. I couldn’t convince myself that I had done the right thing. Macaire had shattered his mind, so that Tristan would look straight through me, never seeing my loving face or the tears streaming down my cheeks as my heart broke in bitter shards. I should have found a way to save him. If I had taken another minute and not been consumed by rage and despair, I might have come up with a way to save him. Vainly I reminded myself that his mind was broken: he was locked in a world of perpetual torment, and it had been my responsibility to set him free. Killing Tristan might have been the kindest thing I could have done for him, but it was slowly destroying me.