Chapter 19 #2
‘Believe me, if there was any other way, I’d take it,’ she mumbled, sneaking a look at him.
He was glaring at her now, features rigid and his voice was sharp. ‘You didn’t tell me what you were either. You had the chance, and you didn’t tell me.’
Analise’s cheeks heated. ‘You already knew, though, didn’t you?’
‘That’s not the point,’ Ezra argued. He took a step towards her. ‘You hid the truth like I did, but you’ve cursed me into the pits of hell for it.’
‘If you’re calling me a liar, just say it,’ she bit out, getting to her feet, finding herself, once again, too close to him.
‘I’m calling you a hypocrite, Analise,’ he snapped.
Her fists clenched. ‘I did it to protect myself, after a lifetime spent hiding from people like you—and you proved my instinct right once again. What's your excuse?’
The space between them was a tangled mess of biting anger, so thick and bitter Analise could carve her name in it.
She didn’t move, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
She wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore, and wasn’t sure she ever had been.
Even when he was glaring at her, eyes narrowed and jaw tight, lips thin, she had the strange sense his anger was for himself as much as it was for her. And that intrigued her.
‘Are you going to help me, or not?’
Scowling, Ezra picked up his shirt from the armchair and put it on, then turned to the bed, pulling the sheets free. ‘Fine. If you want to hang yourself, I’ll give you a rope.’
He tied both sheets together, fashioning them into a rope with knots at regular intervals. Without looking at her, he carried it to the window and slung it out, keeping hold of one end. ‘Doesn’t reach the ground. You’ll have to jump the last few feet.’
‘Fine.’ Analise climbed onto the windowsill before she lost her nerve, while Ezra muttered about how fucking stupid he was to be doing this. Analise met his gaze. ‘Don’t you dare drop me,’ she warned.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. You’re the sort to come back and haunt me,’ Ezra said.
She snorted, not bothering to tell him that wasn’t how ghosts did things.
As Ezra adjusted his grip on the sheet, Analise slid out the window, gripping the sill tight, wondering if he was right and this was a stupid idea.
They were just clothes. Ezra was watching her, a challenge in his eyes, so she shifted her grip to the sheet. His face relaxed a fraction.
‘I won’t let you fall,’ he murmured.
Her stomach flipped as he braced his feet, standing with his weight balanced, like he might in the ring.
When he gave her a nod, she began the descent.
It was hard. She had no muscles in her arms and could barely hold her own weight, wishing for the first time in her life she was slightly built and not all bottom heavy and curved.
At least if she fell her arse would cushion her.
By the time she reached the last knot, her arms were burning and she couldn’t feel her fingers.
The drop was only a few feet, like Ezra promised, but the cobblestones were hard enough to rattle her bones.
While Analise was rubbing her hands on her thighs to coax some feeling back into them, Ezra landed gracefully on the ground next to her.
She glanced up—the sheet was gone, and she realised he’d pulled it back inside.
‘How did you—’
‘I climbed down,’ he said. ‘Let’s go then.’
‘I don’t need your help,’ she hissed.
‘Funny, you needed it five minutes ago,’ he shot back. Analise scowled and stalked off. He followed. The streets were empty apart from the odd late-night wanderer, and fog curled around their ankles. Ezra, mercifully, did not speak.
At the lodging house, everything was as Analise had left it, which, while a relief, was also suspicious.
She hadn’t paid her rent in weeks and had been expecting to either find someone in here or her belongings on the street.
It was freezing inside, the darkness thick and unlived in, so she lit a lamp.
As the room filled with light, her gaze shifted to her bed; Ezra’s did as well.
They looked at each other briefly before she grabbed a bag from the floor, and started pulling clothes from the dresser, hating that her cheeks were flaming and her stomach was tight. She glanced over her shoulder.
Ezra was looking out the window.
‘Analise, come and see this.’
‘What?’
‘Come here.’ The urgency in his tone made her skin prickle. She dumped the bag on the bed and hurried to the window.
In the street below were two Familiars—hers, and another, a woman.
‘Yours?’
‘I think so,’ Ezra replied, frowning.
‘They won’t hurt us,’ Analise said, returning to her packing.
‘I’m not sure I’m convinced of that. You’re not the one wearing a demon mark.’
‘I’m not the one foolish enough to make a deal with the Devil,’ she said, shoving her favourite blouse into the bag.
‘For fuck’s sake. I don’t remember that at all,’ Ezra muttered, sighing and letting the curtain drop. ‘It’s freezing in here.’
‘It always is.’
‘Can we leave with them out there?’
She nodded, wondering if she should take her favourite tea cup as well.
‘You done?’ Ezra asked. ‘I’d like to get back before anyone realises we’re not tucked up in our beds like good citizens.’
Analise gave her room one final look—a goodbye of sorts—and followed Ezra to the door. At the bottom of the stairwell, he stopped so suddenly she ran into him. She scowled and rubbed her nose.
‘Back up the stairs,’ he urged.
Analise shoved past him, finding herself face to face with her Familiar.
She gasped. She’d never been this close to him before. His coal-black, soulless eyes bored into hers, like he was trying to see inside her. His skin was paler than snow, with a greyish hue, his hollow cheeks deep. Bloodless lips curled, making her magic scream in warning.
Like that night she followed a ghost, a chill ran down her spine at the look on his face.
Anger.
Ezra’s Familiar, a blonde, well-dressed woman, stood close.
‘Analise,’ Ezra hissed. ‘Move.’
She did, heart hammering, dread coating the back of her throat. What was happening? Why was this different? Ezra’s footsteps pounded the stairs behind her. When she fumbled with the key, he took it from her, then flung the door open and they both rushed in. He slammed it shut and locked it.
‘Can they get in?’ He looked like he did that night he’d come to the morgue, and she suddenly understood why he’d been so terrified. Those things outside had been following him. ‘Analise?’
‘I have no idea,’ she whispered. Fear filled her as she realised how utterly stupid she’d been to risk herself, risk the both of them, for a pile of fucking clothes.
‘They’re human,’ Ezra was saying. ‘Maddog told me they were still human, so I can hurt them. Got a weapon?’
She nodded, dropping her bag and hurrying into the kitchen, where she found her favourite blade, her gift from Morgan, on the bench. She handed it over to Ezra without a word. She could use it, but guessed he was better with it. The way he flipped it in his hands expertly confirmed it.
They waited, Analise’s muscles tense, her heart racing, but no Familiars came charging through the door. She edged over to the window. ‘They’re back where they were,’ she breathed. ‘I think we’re going to have to stay here until dawn.’
‘They’re nocturnal?’ Ezra asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted. Another thing she didn’t know. ‘I only ever saw mine at night, but possibly because I slept all day.’
‘Alright,’ Ezra said. He angled the armchair to face the door, then sat down, her knife held firmly. ‘You may as well have a sleep.’
‘What?’
‘I’m sure you miss your bed, so have a rest. I’ve got this.’
Numb, Analise nodded, climbing onto her bed and scrambling beneath the covers. It was colder than she remembered, or maybe it was the situation they were in. Shivering, she pulled the blankets tighter. Her teeth were chattering audibly.
‘I’m freezing,’ she complained. Ezra was dressed in a thin shirt. ‘Aren’t you cold?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I’d rather be cold than dead.’
Analise continued to shiver. They hadn’t relit the lamp, but enough pale moonlight made its way through the thin curtains that she could see Ezra’s silhouette.
She couldn’t fall asleep, not while her bones were aching with the cold. Rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm them did no good. ‘Ezra,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think they’re coming. Get in here.’
His head whipped around so fast she was surprised he didn’t break his neck. ‘What?’
‘I don’t have any more blankets. We’ll catch a cold and die. While I don’t care about you, I’d like to stay alive a while longer,’ Analise said through her rattling teeth.
He didn’t move for a long time, before he approached the bed. She held back the covers for him. ‘I think you’re an arsehole, but right now I want your body—so get in.’
She sensed him raise his eyebrows.
‘Your body heat,’ she clarified. ‘Hurry up.’
Ezra slipped the knife beneath the pillow and climbed in next to her. They lay side by side, Analise shivering, until he sighed. ‘Come here. This won’t work with you all the way over there.’
She hesitated, then, after biting her tongue on her chattering teeth, shuffled closer. She ducked beneath his arm, tucking her head under his chin and pressing herself as close as she could get. She was practically lying on top of him, but she didn’t care because he was warm.
His arms closed around her. She froze, then relaxed, sighing in pure relief as his heat spread through her.
‘Better?’ he asked.
‘You’re good for something.’
Ezra snorted. ‘I’m good for a lot of things. You haven’t had the pleasure.’
‘I’m sure I’ll live,’ she mumbled.
Analise drifted off, and when she woke, she was on her side, her back curled against Ezra’s chest, his arm beneath her head. She sighed, snuggling back against him. He was so warm. He was also, she realised suddenly, awake and hard as a rock against the curve of her arse.
She pulled away from him with a hiss.
‘Good morning to you as well,’ he murmured huskily.
Analise threw back the blanket and sat up swiftly, twisting to face him, wanting to slap that smug look off his face. He must have sensed it because his hands snaked out, fingers closing around her wrists. She glared at him, trying to pull free. ‘Let me go, you animal.’
He slowly sat up. ‘Animal, is it? I think the word you’re looking for is man. And you shouldn’t be surprised. It’s morning, and you’ve had your arse in my lap for most of the night.’
‘I was cold!’
‘You moan in your sleep, did you know that?’ Ezra said, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth.
Their faces were close together. Analise’s chest heaved, and she wasn’t sure it was anger or something else that made her clench her teeth.
She ripped her wrists free and shoved him; before she knew what was happening, she was on her back, his body hovering over hers, her hands pinned above her head.
‘I think we should try this again,’ he murmured. ‘Good morning, Analise.’
‘Fuck you.’
He chuckled. ‘If you wish. I won’t say no.’
‘Get off me,’ she snapped.
‘If that’s what you want.’
Witch-hound.
Witch-hound.
Witch-hound.
Analise’s brain screamed it at her, but the words were swept away by the look in his eyes and the way they moved over her face, settling on her mouth.
Her breathing deepened involuntarily, and she bit her lip.
His hands tightened on her wrists at the traitorous movement of her hips, then he pressed himself closer.
Fuck, she wanted to kiss him. But he was a lying bastard with a fabulous mouth and a sinful tongue and those fingers—
His lips curled, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
The door to her room was flung open, crashing into the wall. Ezra moved so quickly it made Analise gasp. He was on his feet, fists curled, before she could blink. Light from the outside world illuminated a tall figure standing in the doorway.
Ezra relaxed, dragging his hand over his face, and managed a nervous laugh.
Jem looked absolutely livid. His face was tight, nostrils flared, lips a thin line.
‘Morning,’ Ezra said.
‘Morning?’ Jem repeated, shoving his pistol away. ‘Morning? What the absolute fuck did you two think you were doing? If you wanted a quick shag, you could have done that back at the club. Do I need to remind you, Ezra, that you’re being hunted by the goddamn Devil?’
Ezra winced. ‘No, and if you did, you don't need to anymore, not after last night.’
Jem came closer, glaring at the both of them, disapproval leaching from every line of his body. ‘What happened?’
Ezra told him about the Familiars. He didn’t mention his panic, or Analise’s, making the whole thing into a casual night of hiding from supernatural creatures.
Jem stared at them, then shook his head, muttering under his breath.
With a sigh, he ordered them back to the Canem Club, where they were to remain.
Neither of them argued.