Bittersweet Magic (32 page)

“I want to be with you again,” he said. “I yearn for things to be the way they were, but not at any price.”

She moved to stand next to him, rested a hand on his arm, and he only just prevented the revulsion from showing on his face. “So what are you suggesting?” she asked.

“We give the Key to the Order to be destroyed, and I will rule at your side in the Abyss. There are enough worlds to conquer there.”

“The idea of ruling Heaven doesn’t appeal?”

“I told you—not at any price. I’m being honest with you, Andarta. Ask too much of me and I will come to hate you.”

“And you don’t hate me now?”

Christ, she was being coy. He knew he had her. Who would have thought it? He forced himself to rest his hand on hers and squeeze her fingers. “I don’t hate you.” He should lie and tell her he loved her, but so soon after thinking that word in connection with Roz, he couldn’t do it.

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.

“What has he done?” she asked.

“Do you have the Key?”

The thing was still clenched in her fingers. She raised her hand to show him. “How?”

“He’s enslaved himself to Andarta in exchange for the Key and her promise to stay in the Abyss.” The voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Christian standing there.

“We have to get him back.”

“It’s too late. He wears her sigil.”

She couldn’t bear the thought of Piers in slavery. He’d make a shit slave. Would Andarta hurt him if he defied her? Why had he done it?

Christian answered her unspoken question. “He did it because he knew she would win otherwise.”

“How do we get him back? How do we get him away from her?”

“We don’t.”

“We can kill her.”

“If she dies, those bearing her sigil will also perish.” He came to stand in front of her. His face held pity but also resolution. “This is what he wanted. His grand gesture. He did this for all of us. The best thing you can do is accept it and live your life.”

Yeah, like that was going to happen. “You’re his friend—you can’t leave him there.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. He loved her once. Perhaps he still does.”

The memory of his words drifted through her mind.
I love you.
And she knew he didn’t love Andarta.
He loved her
.

Christian’s expression softened. “Do you think he would have done this if we could think of another way? For the past week, we’ve been searching for a means to defeat her and we’ve come up with nothing. The attacks that have been happening were only the beginning. Millions would have died, the rest been enslaved—”

“Instead it’s only Piers.”

“Yes.”

She had to get away. Think this through. There had to be a way. Someone who would help. She looked at Jonas, and he shrugged. His loyalty was to the Order.

Around her neck, she could feel the ring her father had given her. He hated Piers. He’d probably love this. But he claimed to care for her, and she also guessed that her father held the answer to unlocking her own powers. She remembered enough to know that it was with his help that she had shut them away when she had been little more than a baby. She wasn’t sure what he could do, but if she was going to outwit Andarta, she needed every bit of help she could get.

“What shall I do with this?” She held up the Key.

“We’ll hand it over to Asmodai, and he can destroy it as he should have all those years ago.”

“Well, perhaps someone should watch him this time. Here.” She gave the Key to Christian and walked away.

She needed to do something before she contacted her father next, and she headed to the elevator. The doors slid open, revealing Ryan and Maria.

They appeared very chummy, and was that guilt that flashed across Maria’s expressive features as she glanced up and noticed Roz? She shifted a little distance away from the detective.

“Not gone back to the mother house yet?” Roz asked.

“I may not go back. Tara has offered me a job here. She runs a refuge for people who have been damaged by contact with this world. She thinks I could help.” Maria shrugged a little helplessly. “I’ve seen so much now. I can’t go back and hide behind the convent’s walls. I must do what I can to help.”

“Good.” She glanced at Ryan. “And what about you? Have you decided?”

“Yeah. I’m staying as well. It’s that or let these fuckers mess with my head—not going to happen. I told Piers and Christian last night. I just have to work out my notice and then I’m moving in.”

“I’m glad. They need good people like you.”

“Forget the good. They just need people. This place is full of monsters.”

“Including me.”

“No, not you. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not a monster.”

She realized this could be the last time she saw her friends, and she couldn’t even say goodbye. Finally, she moved aside so they could pass and stepped into the elevator.

“Look, I have to go, but I’ll see you both later.”

“Will you?” Ryan asked.

Roz ignored the comment and jabbed her finger on the button to close the doors. She made her way up to the roof where they’d met with her father the last time. Sitting on the low wall that ran around the edge, her legs dangling, she decided how best to approach him. She required information as much as anything. Christian had told her there was no way to save Piers. But did she believe him?

The sun was high overhead. Down below she could see tiny figures scurrying along the streets, hear the blare of car horns. Once, she’d desired nothing more than the chance to live a normal life among these people. Now, she accepted that would never be and she wasn’t upset at the thought.

Always before, she’d been alone, hiding what she was. This last week had shown her what it could be like to be among friends. Loved ones. Piers. She couldn’t give up on him. She pulled the chain from around her neck and rubbed at the smooth metal. It felt cool under her fingertips.

“Come,” she whispered. “Father, come to me.”

For a minute, nothing happened, and a sense of despair hit her. She didn’t know what she expected from him, but he was her only hope. Everyone else here was on Piers’ side. They wouldn’t go against him.

A mist formed in front of her and her father materialized.

“Rosamund.” His expression was guarded, and she realized he must already be aware of what Piers had done.

“You knew?” she asked.

“He came last night and told me.”

“Seems he told everyone but me,” she said, not trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.

“He knew you would ask him to stay, and he had made his decision. You should be proud. I’ve always hated Lamont, but what he has done will save countless lives.”

“We have the Key now. There has to be a way to get him back.”