My gaze met his. Anger and relief vied for dominance in the turbulent depths of his blue eyes. “But they weren’t real. They were just a product of Taylor’s imag—”
“No, they weren’t,” he cut in.”t real. Th “And because these particular beasts were little more than plague bearers, the wounds became poisoned.”
“I wouldn’t have thought the hospital would have known how to cope with that sort of poisoning.”
“They didn’t,” Ilianna said. “Kiandra did.”
“She was here?” Holy shit!
“And I didn’t even have to call her.” Ilianna wrinkled her nose. “She didn’t have an easy time of pinning down the particular branch of poison, though. It really was touch and go for a while there.”
“Meaning Taylor was close to winning anyway.”
“But he didn’t.” Ilianna rose suddenly from the bed. “And on that cheery note, I’m off to the canteen to grab a bite to eat. Don’t do anything daft while I’m gone.”
“Damn,” I muttered, “there goes my idea of line dancing down the hall with all the other reapers.”
She laughed, collected her purse, then headed out into the hall.
“That,” I said, amusement teasing my lips, “was a very obvious exit. Your doing?”
“Yes.” He sat down on the bed and caught my hand in his, entwining our fingers. Heat pressed into my skin, and warmed far more than it should have. “I’m sorry.”
I frowned. “What for? It’s not like you could have done anything to help me on the astral plane.”
“No, but if I had not been so foolishly stubborn, I could have done something once your astral being had returned to flesh.”
I stared at him, confused. “But what? It’s not like you can heal me anymore.”
“Ah, but that’s not entirely the truth.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. Though I wasn’t really surprised that he hadn’t been honest with me—even with something as simple as that—it still hurt. I thought we’d at least gotten past the lies—
“I did not entirely lie,” he interrupted. “I currently cannot fully heal you. Not against major wounds or the infection the hounds caused.”
“Then what—”
“I cannot heal because I no longer have the energy.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I need to recharge,” he said softly. “I have gone a long time without doing so, and it is beginning to show.”
“But you and I made love,” I said, my confusion growing. “Couldn’t you have recharged then?”
“I could have, but I didn’t.” His fingers tightened around mine. Pain rippled, but I didn’t say anything. He could have crushed my hand and I don’t think I would have said anything. My gaze—and my attention—was on his face. A face that did not reveal his emotions, even though the turbulent force of them ran like quicksilver through my being. “I erroneously believed it was better for the mission a thtubbond us both that I hold myself apart, and not take what I needed.”
“But why?” I hesitated, then said, “It increases the risk of assimilation, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. And at the time, I feared that more than I feared not being able to heal you.”
“And now?” I asked, my gaze searching his, seeking an admission, wanting to hear that he cared even though it was obvious that he did. More than he should, more than was wise.
“And now,” he said softly, “I know there is a fate far worse than remaining a dark angel for time eternal.”
Tears stung my eyes. While it was an admission I’d ached to hear, it was nevertheless a dangerous one for us both. We both had dreams of a future once this quest was ended, and what now lay acknowledged between us was as dangerous to those dreams as the quest itself.
“So where does that leave us?” I asked.
“I don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I could not ever relive the horror of the last five days. Fighting to protect your body while you were battling for your life on the astral plane was bad enough, but being able to do little more than watch you weaken from wounds I should have been able to heal . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. “Not again. Not ever again.”
Just for a moment, the control vanished, and emotions were there for all to see, so deep and dark and raw that it made my heart ache.
I tugged him toward me, wrapped my free arm around his neck, and just held him. The press of his body felt so real and right that tears trickled down my cheeks. Because it might be real, but it wasn’t right. Not really.
“I’m willing to risk assimilation if it helps us both,” I whispered. “But the decision has to be yours. You’re the only one who truly understands the consequences either way.”
He didn’t say anything immediately; then he sighed and pulled away. His gaze, when it caught mine, was troubled.
“Then we take the risk,” he said. “And may fate be gentle on us both.”
Don’t miss the next exciting novel in the Dark Angels series,
Darkness Unmasked
Coming from Signet Select in June 2013
The office phone rang with a sharpness that jolted me instantly awake. I jerked upright, peeled a wayward bit of paper from my nose, and stared at the phone blankly. Then the caller ID registered and I groaned. The call was coming from Madeline Hunter, the bitch who was not only in charge of the Directorate of Other Races, but a leading member of the high vampire council. She was also the very last person in this world—or the next—whom I wanted to hear from right now.
Unfortunately, given that she was now my boss, she was not someone I could—or should—ignore.
I hit the vid-phone’s answer button and in a less than polite voice said, “What?”
She paused, and something flashed in her green eyes. A darkness that spoke of anger. But all she said was, “I have a task for you.”
A curse rose up my throat but I somehow managed to leash it. “What sort of task?”
Even as I asked the question, I knew. There was only one reason for her to be ringing me, and that was to track down an escapee from hell. She had not only the Directorate at her command, but a stable full of Cazadors—who were the high council’s elite killing force—and they dealt with all manner of murderers and madmen on an everyday basis.
I even had one following me around astrally, reporting my every move back to Hunter. Trust was not high on her list of good traits.
Not that I think she had all that many good traits.
“A close friend of mine was murdered last night.” Her voice held very little emotion, and she was all the scarier because of it. “I want you to investigate.”
Hunter had friends. Imagine that. I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and said somewhat wearily, “Look, as much as I absolutely adore working for you, the reality is the Directorate is far better equipped to handle this sort of murderer.”
“The Directorate hasn’t your experience with the denizens of hell,” she snapped. “Nor do they have a reaper at their beck and call.”
So I’d been right—it was an escapee from hell. Not great news, but I guess it was my fault that these things were about in the world. It might have become my task to find the three lost keys that controlled the gates to heaven and hell, but the only one I’d managed to find so far had almost immediately been stolen from me. As a result, the first gate to hell had been permanently opened by person or persons unknown, and the stronger demons were now coming through. Not in great numbers, not yet, but that was only thanks to the fact that the remaining gates were still shut.
Of course, given the choice, I’d rather not find the other keys. After all, if no one knew where they were, they couldn’t be used to either permanently open or close the gates. But it wasn’t like I had a choice, not any more. It was either find them or die. Or there was the choice given to me by my father, who was one of the Raziq, the rogue Aedh priests who’d helped create the keys, and also the man responsible for having them stolen: Watch my friends die.