“It’s not right.” Her words were muffled by the thick padded arm of the couch.
“Not right for whom? For you? For me? Maybe not for Brian or Tera or that miserable bunch of hypocrites who raised you. Come on, bryaela. You’re stronger than this.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Now sit up and stop behaving like a child.”
“Oh my God.” She turned to stare at him. “You are the most insensitive man I’ve—oh, whatever.”
“Part of my charm.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, though, and she noticed shadows beneath them that hadn’t been there in the study.
She took a deep breath. “I…I saw.”
“I know you did.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose. I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to, I was hungry so I went to the kitchen…”
“And you found the stairway,” he finished.
“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure if she was apologizing to him, or to herself, or…to whom, but they were the only words that made sense.
He shrugged. “It’s done.”
“Wait, you…you knew?” Of course he knew, stupid. You practically hung a sign around your neck.
“Of course I knew. I felt you in the room. And then you don’t normally hang around by the front door with your shoes and purse in your hand, like an inexperienced cat burglar.”
“I panicked.”
“You’re not yourself.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“And that’s the point.”
The urge to slap him felt so good, after the abject misery of the last twenty minutes or so, it took her a minute to realize what it was. None of her problems seemed as bad when he was being this exasperating. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Maybe.”
Megan watched him for a minute. He watched her right back, his dark eyes serious. It felt a little odd to be having such a—well, such an intimate conversation, that didn’t involve any intimate activities to go with it. They talked a lot—even more than they engaged in those activities—but this was different. The subject was open, laying between them. It wouldn’t go away no matter how she might want it to, so she might as well have the discussion. Get it over with.
He must have had the same thought. “You didn’t really think you could hide it from me, did you?”
“Obviously I did, or I wouldn’t have tried.”
A quick smile flashed across his face, like a lightning bolt straight into her chest.
“I pay attention, darling,” he said. “It wasn’t hard to see, even if you hadn’t fed off me a few times.”
“No, I didn’t—did I?”
He nodded.
Why couldn’t she get drunk? None of the reasons seemed to be that important. Winston seemed nice enough, and she didn’t really need to participate…
Unless she wanted to behave like what Orion had accused her of being.
Greyson’s chest looked almost as inviting as her drink. She leaned into him, resting her cheek just below his collarbone. His muscles relaxed and his arm curved around her.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Come on, Meg.”
Right. He wouldn’t have invaded her privacy like that, any more than she would have done it to him. “But…aside from that, why didn’t you?”
“Because it was obvious you didn’t know you were doing it. Just like you didn’t realize your steak the other night wasn’t overdone. Or that earlier today—you didn’t see your eyes.”
Her hands flew to her face. “Oh God, did they change?”
“Yes. They haven’t done that before, at least not that I’ve seen.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Your demon is growing. It’s gaining power, and trying to get more. Maybe because some of your little ones have abandoned ship, like we talked about after your dad’s funeral. Or maybe just because. But it’s trying to assert itself and your power is too strong to let itself be destroyed. So the demon has to look elsewhere for food.”
Your power is too strong to let itself be destroyed…“It was feeding off me?”
“At least at first, yes.”
“And that’s why the stuff Tera taught me stopped working.”
She caught his sharp glance. She hadn’t told him that. “I would think so.”
“So if I…if I keep it fed, I can do that stuff again? And I can read people again?”
“You haven’t been?”
“No, not really. Not after Gerald’s sister came to the office Monday morning. I wanted to comfort her, but…” She shook her head. “It went wrong.”
“So that’s why you quit like that. I wondered.”
“No you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. For a minute I thought perhaps you’d bowed to my superior wisdom, but that would have been too much to ask. So I assumed it had something to do with the demon.”
It all seemed so rational, so sensible, as they sat there sipping bourbon in front of a roaring fire. Megan could have imagined they were talking about dinner plans or what movie to watch, if she didn’t still feel so cold and the squirming thing in her chest had stilled itself.
It hadn’t. Calmer, yes, but not quiescent.
Spud appeared holding an armful of clothing at the same time the buzzer rang. Winston Lawden had arrived.
Chapter 22
She started to sweat as she buttoned her jacket. True to form, Spud had selected a skirt she normally wore in the evening—it was shorter than work generally called for—and a summery camisole. Whatever. Given how pale she looked, maybe it was better if no one focused on her face too much. Not that her cleavage was anything to write home about.
“What do I do about it?” she asked, pulling up her stocking.
“Hmm?” His eyes tracked the movements of her hands. “Oh. Just relax. If you don’t panic about it, it won’t be so bad. It’s not like this is some crazy force that’s going to overtake you at any moment and force you to do things, especially once you get matters sorted out with your demons. It scared you, right, more than actually bothering you physically?”
Funny. She hadn’t thought about it that way before, but he was right. It was the creepy awfulness of wanting to drink blood, more than the actual desire to do so, that had bothered her. She nodded.
“It’s just a desire, not a demand. You’re not a slave to it. It—you—have specific triggers. You can avoid those or you can learn to accept them and try to find another way to deal with them. It’s only a problem because you made it one. Oh, and sex is always a good way to get your mind off it, you know.”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re so helpful.”
“I try.”
She dug her compact out of her purse and smeared a little powder on. Ugh. Blotchy skin, bags under her eyes…and so many unanswered questions, still, that she thought her head might explode, although—she hoped—not literally. Of course, if Ktana Leyak got hold of her, it was entirely possible.
Unless Orion Maldon had told the truth and knew how to defeat her.
“We’ll talk more later,” he said. “Unless you’ve decided to go home after Winston leaves.”
“Talking sounds good.” She still hadn’t even asked him about whether his demons were picking on hers…not that one explosion meant much. Not that the connection was even confirmed. Coincidences did happen, even when it seemed like they shouldn’t.
“We’ll see if—What the hell?”
Screams of pain tore through the door, mingled with shouts from Malleus and Maleficarum. Greyson started running, Megan right behind him, her heels clicking on the spotless floor.
They burst through the door of the study, where Greyson stopped so abruptly that Megan ran right into him. He hardly noticed. Neither did she.
Orion Maldon glowed like an LED light, sitting in his chair with sweat pouring down his face. Megan could practically see the air above him shimmer as his blood heated, as he got redder and redder until she expected to see his tears boil and sizzle down his tight cheeks. Heat rose from his skin and canceled out the chill of Winston’s rage.