Kiss of Darkness (20 page)

“Someplace secure,” Gia added, setting bowls on the table.

“You don’t think your offices are?”

She pressed her lips together, obviously debating how much to tell him. “The lab is. The rest of the building?” She shrugged. “They found a safe house. I have to assume nothing is secure.”

He was puzzled at their structure. He knew Gia and Dupree were Winter’s top lieutenants, but he’d assumed Dupree was the one in charge of security and patrols while Gia handled the business end of things.

She hesitated so long he didn’t think she was going to explain. No matter. He’d get it out of Winter in due time.

“Physical security, taking care of the business assets…I handle that stuff.”

He nodded. “And Dupree runs the patrols?”

“And most of the training.”

He returned his gaze to Nadia. “And how does one become an Order historian?”

She grinned. “Once upon a time, a long time ago, I was a history professor.”

“Nadia is one of the civilian members of the Order.”

“And you aren’t?” Luke asked. Marcus had assumed the same thing since it appeared Gia was an administrator.

“No.” Her smile was fierce and made it clear his brother better watch his back.

“Giving away trade secrets?” Winter’s voice was joking, but raw. He jumped from his chair and practically ran to where she leaned against the doorframe.

“You should be lying down.”

He scowled. He’d left her asleep on the couch in his office. She shouldn’t be functioning on any kind of conscious level for days with that damned poison in her veins. She only shrugged and moved to step around him, but she swayed and he caught her, carried her to his seat at the table. He flipped it around and sat with her in his lap. Sighing, she leaned her head back a moment, turned her face to kiss his throat. His body threatened to seize up. It was the first open affection she’d shown him, but it was over too soon. Looking up, she met Gia’s gaze across the table.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” the other woman said, frowning.

“It shouldn’t. But it is. Maybe you build an immunity? Or maybe there wasn’t a lot of poison on the blade.” Winter shrugged again. “I’m just glad I’m not incapacitated.”

But she was exhausted, worn nearly to the end of her endurance. He wasn’t going to allow this chitchat to go on much longer. She needed to be in bed.

“Is that Kara’s chili?” She sniffed the bowl in front of her. His bowl. He had a sudden nearly overwhelming desire to feed her.

“Yep. She’s upstairs.”

Winter shifted in his arms as she reached for one of the spoons in the middle of the table, and he saw her cock an eyebrow as she watched Gia.

“Dupree?”

“Gone.”

“Wonderful,” she added sarcastically but then groaned when she took her first bite from the dish. “At least we’ll eat well.”

Gia snickered. “Yeah. Never mind the heartburn, right?”

Winter didn’t respond, but he felt her laughing agreement.

“Kara’s going to ask you to lift Ben’s edict.”

That got her attention and she lifted her head in surprise.

What’s the edict?

Winter should be used to him showing up in her head by now. Crap. Sitting on his lap, his warmth and strength seeping into her, she found him impossible to resist.

We used to allow twenty-year-olds to go through the bonding. Benjamin thought that was a bad idea. Thought you couldn’t really know your own mind at that age. So he refused to let anyone in his territory under twenty-five create the bond.

“What did you tell her?”

“Told her I could hold up her application indefinitely.”

Winter raised her eyebrows again. “I missed something I take it?”

Gia shrugged. “Kara. Dupree. The usual.”

“Uh huh.”

Gia looked over, held her gaze. “Dupree is never gonna let her do it, Winter.”

She felt the walls closing in on her even though they were talking about someone else. “He doesn’t get to make that choice. He doesn’t have any rights over her. And she’s an adult.”

Gia watched her a long moment and Winter felt her struggle, part of her even shared it. Part of her cringed knowing this young vibrant woman would willingly tie part of her soul to a demon. But the other part, the part that was responsible for keeping everyone safe and fighting off the demons, knew she needed every soldier she could get.

“Dupree will get over it,” she added. He’d be good and pissed, but if he’d really wanted to change what was virtually an assured outcome he should have acted years ago.

“So are you lifting the edict?”

She seriously considered it. They’d already discussed the need to up their recruitment efforts, especially since they’d lost so many in the last few days. But Ben’s reasons for the edict were still sound and she still agreed with them. A few months, in this case at least, wouldn’t make a difference.

“No. If there’s an arbitrary age minimum, twenty-five is just as good as any other.”

Gia nodded and Winter sensed her relief. Probably because she didn’t want to be the one to deal with Dupree if Kara was allowed to bond sooner than he expected. She sighed. He was going to have to get used to the idea pretty fast. Kara’s birthday was only a few months off.

The table fell silent. Well, enough of the depressing shit. She almost snorted. Like it all wasn’t depressing at this point? She needed some good news pretty damned soon. Looking up she pinned Nadia with her gaze.

“You have anything useful yet?”

She frowned, shook her head. “No, Commander. I’m sorry. It’s a lot to go through. There were some—” she paused half a second, “—interesting things in the vault.”

Winter arched an eyebrow at the expression on Nadia’s face, a mixture of hope and reluctance. “Interesting how?”

“I haven’t had a chance to check yet, but I think we have some of the banned texts.”

Some of the early records were forbidden to Order members. Winter was surprised Ben had any, and they probably weren’t the secret texts.

“Will they help?”

“I won’t know until I read them.”

“I don’t have to emphasize the need for haste, I’m sure,” she muttered dryly, but everyone heard her. There were soft chuckles around the table.

“Of course not,” Nadia answered.

“Good.” She covered a yawn with her fist, met Gia’s and Nadia’s gazes. “Get a few hours sleep. We’ll meet again in the afternoon.”

She carried her bowl to the sink and rinsed it out, aware of Marcus’s eyes on her every move. She had no idea what to do about him and right now wasn’t in the frame of mind to even attempt it. She’d never known demons to use their poison on knives, wasn’t sure what to make of one doing so now. It seemed to go along with the powerful warlord theory, a demon smart enough to adapt, and that worried her.

She left the room without speaking, letting thoughts just flit through her mind and sift naturally. Was the poison on the knife diluted or had she built up some kind of immunity? The only way to test that would be to take another dose from the same source again, and she wasn’t keen on that idea.

But her gut said she was building an immunity. She’d felt the poison on the blade as it sliced her skin, felt it start to slow her down, start to dull her mind and senses, but unlike the last time she’d been able to fight it off long enough to teleport out. Well, okay, to be honest if Marcus hadn’t been there, she might not have been able to get out. He’d held her power together when it had wanted to shut down.

And it had shut down, but only briefly. Not nearly as long as the last time, not nearly as long as a full dose should have put her out.

She pushed open the door to his room, not even bothering to fight the urge to cling to him. She could feel him behind her. Worried. Pissed as hell. Fighting didn’t seem worth the energy. Unbuckling her weapon belts, she put them on top of the dresser careful to set them down gently, no clanging. No noise. No scratching old expensive-looking furniture.

Her head was pounding its disapproval. The last few days of little sleep and the most recent abuse, the new dose of demon poison, were making themselves known. She sat on the edge of the bed, unzipped and pulled off her boots, before letting herself fall back without removing her clothes. She closed her eyes, covered them with her hand against the glare from the overhead light that still got in.

“Winter.”

She sighed, but didn’t budge, didn’t uncover her eyes. “Could we do this tomorrow? I know you want to ream me out, but I’m just not up for it right now.”

The bed dipped beside her.

“You almost got yourself killed tonight. Again. We have to talk about this reckless streak of yours.”

The light seeping through her fingers disappeared and she turned her head, lowering her hand. “Would you accept an ‘I’m sorry’?”

He watched her, eyes tracing every line of her body, and he sounded distracted, not focused on what was supposed to be an argument. “No.”

“How did I know you’d say that?”

He sat and tugged her up too, carefully pulling the shirt she’d found in the office over her head. His gaze was hot, carnal. It seemed almost a physical stroke over her skin. With gentle fingers he traced the edge of the bandage crossing her body.

“Does it hurt?”

Like a bitch. But the awakening in her body more than made up for it. “A little.”

He smiled. “Liar.”

She shrugged. She didn’t want to argue; she wanted him to fulfill the promise his eyes were making. He got out of bed and stripped while she shimmied out of the rest of her clothes, but when he rejoined her he did nothing but gather her close. She rested her head on his chest and gradually relaxed into sleep as he rubbed her back in gentle strokes.

She sighed contentedly. She could get used to this.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Winter knew it was a dream, knew this dream and smiled as she opened her eyes. She saw the white marble columns of the courtyard Marcus dragged her to in sleep when she was defenseless. But it wasn’t Marcus she faced when she turned.

“David?”

She could have sobbed. She’d looked for him in her dreams in the early years, but she wasn’t a dream walker. It wasn’t one of her skills. She only shared Marcus’s dreams because he was able to pull her in. This, the much beloved face before her, was nothing more than her subconscious at work.

He smiled. “Are you sure about that, Victoria?”

Startled at the use of the name she hadn’t heard in years, hadn’t associated as her own in decades, she took a step forward, cocking her head to the side to study the apparition. Her memory was stellar. He looked just as he had the last time she’d seen him. Well, before the demons had got to him. He was tall and broad, still sporting the buzz cut that had been so popular in the fifties. She’d often teased that he kept it so short to disguise the fact he was going prematurely bald. He’d just laugh at her and tell her she liked it.

“Nothing to say? That’s not like you,” the dream David joked.

“Well, it’s not every day your dead husband visits you in a dream.”

He stepped closer and lifted his hand, drew one finger down the side of her face before cupping it with his whole hand. She turned in to the caress, the tactile sensation so real she wondered if maybe he was really there. No. Impossible.

“Anything’s possible,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “I should have come sooner, but I hoped you’d move on without a push in the right direction.”

She frowned. “What direction? What are you talking about?”

Great. Even her dream life was filled with riddles and mystery.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The nightwalker? Marcus? It’s time to let me go, sweetheart.”

She jerked away. “If this is some kind of trick I don’t appreciate it.”

It was cruel to toy with her like this. She’d kill Marcus. Dream David sighed.

“It’s really me, Victoria. Your mind is strong enough to sense any subterfuge.”

Jesus. He was right. Even asleep no one could mess with her mind this badly, so it all was just a dream, just a long-gone wish. She fought the urge to explain to David why she fought the connection she felt with Marcus, why she tried to keep him alive in her heart.

“I can’t,” she whispered. Couldn’t take that risk again, couldn’t endanger anyone else anymore than could be helped. Because the truth was it was her fault. The demon who’d killed David had been stalking her and he got in the way.

“Do you want forgiveness? I absolve you of the guilt you feel, Victoria.”

This time she did sob and choked on the sound. He moved forward and brought her into the circle of his arms. A comforting embrace, a shoulder she’d known she could count on.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered. “It wasn’t.”

She didn’t agree, but she nodded, clinging to him as she felt herself beginning to wake.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” he said, the last words she heard before he disappeared. She had the heart-rending feeling she’d never see him again. The dream had been a one-time deal.

She slept the rest of the day undisturbed. When she woke, she felt lighter. She lay quiet for several minutes, unmoving, mentally examining her body for signs of trouble but she couldn’t find anything wrong. Had the dream David lightened the crushing guilt she always carried?

Marcus’s arm tightened around her stomach. “You’re thinking of another man in my bed,” he growled.

She cracked a smile. He knew he had no competition. He’d made damned sure of it. “My husband. He came to me in a dream last night.”

Marcus rolled on top of her, nudging her legs apart so his hips, his erection nestled at the juncture between her thighs. He searched her face. Serious.

“And what did he have to say?”

Why had she told him that? And how should she respond to his question? She was careful to keep her thoughts private and could see that displeased him. She had to fight the urge to reach up and smooth the worry lines from his forehead.

“He said he forgives me. And I need to move on,” she whispered, surprised at her honesty.

If possible Marcus got even more still, more watchful. Finally he answered, as he pushed inside her, her sex hot and wet and welcoming. “He’s right.”