Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
When in doubt, shut your damn mouth.
CELINE
Alarms blare, red lights flashing in every corner of my mind.
It’s dangerous—feeling Alistair’s skin against mine and knowing my blood is helping him heal.
It makes me believe we have a chance; that I’ve grown strong enough to protect them.
My hands shake. I ball them at my sides.
I couldn’t keep her safe, so what makes me think I’ll have any better luck with Alistair or Luca?
Memories try to escape from the orderly boxes I’ve sorted them into; the locked chest clearly labeled do not open rattles wildly.
Did she feel something similar before he lost interest in charming her and revealed the monster behind the mask?
Furious with the misbehaving memories and myself, I shove the chest back in the dusty corner of my subconscious where it belongs. I am strong enough.
But I prefer monsters without masks. No pretense—at least they’re honest about what they are. Alistair, with his deadly fangs and lethal speed, should fit into that category . . . except he holds me like I’m precious.
The tenderness in his blue eyes is far scarier than the carnal hunger in them when they’re red. The bedroom walls close in more each time he glances at me.
I should back out before I’m in too deep, but . . . I need to protect him. Getting him to agree to stay with me was easier than I expected. All it took was a little resistance on my part, and then I had him. He even thinks it was his idea.
As long as Luca agrees, I’ll have home advantage in what comes next. Ciprian is an unexpected complication.
“Do me a favor, angel,” Alistair says, draping his arm loosely over my shoulder as we leave the bedroom. “And help me sort this assassin problem quickly. I have business I need to attend to out of state.”
Frowning, I shrug his arm off. The bored drawl. Muttering about business. It’s such a departure from the clingy way he held me in bed. Maybe I’m not the only one playing games. The question is, what does he hope to win?
“You can go if you need to,” I say, matching his blasé tone. “I’m sure Luca is more than capable of helping me find the last angel.”
Alistair smiles and nods, his fangs glinting in the dim hallway. The window shades in his apartment are so solid, there’s no way of knowing that it’s noon in Nevada without checking a clock first. He flips the light switch in the living room, and I blink at the sudden blinding light.
Ciprian sits bolt upright, black eyes flashing dangerously. “A warning would be nice,” he growls, massaging his temples. “Fuck. My head is killing me.”
“I took a lot of blood.” Alistair winces. “Make sure to eat plenty of iron today.”
Ciprian runs his fingers through his messy blond hair, but it doesn’t help much. The top of his head is a haystack after his night on the couch.
“A steak or five coming right up,” he says, yawning.
“But before that, I have an intensely personal question for you.” Ciprian levels Alistair with a penetrating stare, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed.
Tension crawls through my veins. Personal questions are against the rules around here, especially in front of others.
Alistair rolls his shoulders back and stretches to his full height. “What?”
“Do vampires drink coffee or go straight for the vein every time?”
My unease disappears like mist in the wind. When I glance at Alistair’s slack jaw, I lose what’s left of my composure and giggle, only cutting the sound off when I realize how ridiculous it is to be laughing.
Alistair shakes his head, the corner of his mouth turning up. “I’ll put a pot on.”
“Consider your life debt paid then,” Ciprian says. “Because if I don’t get my caffeine fix soon, I’ll be dead.”
“Demonic weakness?” Alistair teases.
“For this demon, absolutely.”
“Bathroom’s down the hall.” Alistair points as he heads for the kitchen. “In case you have any other demonic weaknesses you need to take care of.”
“Demons do pee. That’s correct.” Ciprian stands up and stretches, his shirt pulling up to reveal a chiseled slice of stomach. “But we never poop, Celine. If anyone claims otherwise, let me know and I’ll take care of them, because they’re a liar.”
I close my mouth to abort the laugh before it can escape. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I assure him as he heads toward the bathroom. “After you’re done in there, though, I do have something I need to tell you.”
Ciprian looks over his shoulder at me, eyes sparkling. “What a tease. I’ll hurry back.” He disappears down the hall, whistling cheerfully under his breath.
“Have you decided what to say to him yet?” Alistair asks.
I shrug. “The bare minimum.”
“Understood.” He bustles around the kitchen, and before long the smell of coffee fills the apartment. Like magic, Luca appears, his nose tilted toward the smell. Without a word to me or Alistair, he digs through the cabinets, banging the doors closed one after the other until he finds the mugs.
“Make yourself at home,” Alistair drawls.
Luca grunts, then holds his borrowed mug out insistently.
“You aren’t the only coffee addict here,” Alistair tells him, holding the full pot out of Luca’s reach.
“Cool.” Luca snatches the pot from him with a snakelike strike and begins to fill his mug. “Celine?”
“Can I have a sip of yours?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
Luca looks at me, his face twisting into an expression of abject horror. “I-I mean, sure—”
“Gods, don’t panic.” I shake my head, not bothering to hide my grin. “Of course I want my own. Although I’m starting to wonder if you have a problem.”
Another grunt is all I get in response.
“It’s only a problem if you stop giving him coffee,” Ciprian quips as he rejoins us, the ends of his hair damp. Even soaking wet, the strands are only a couple of shades darker than usual, candied caramel instead of icy blond.
To my surprise, Luca retrieves another mug from the cabinet without complaint and fills it up, putting it on the counter in front of Ciprian.
Shaking my head, I tug the fridge open, grateful to see creamer hiding in the back behind the bagged blood. I’m not sure how anyone can drink coffee black. If I wanted to consume liquid despair, I would go back to the celestial realm and sip on my own endless supply of tears.
The room is silent as we drink our coffee, but it’s surprisingly comfortable. Especially considering the fact that we don’t actually know each other all that well, except for Luca and me.
“You’re edging the hell out of me with this wait, babe,” Ciprian says to me, his lips curling. “I’m kind of into it, but do us both a favor and put me out of my misery.”
“Are you sure?” I run my finger over the rim of my mug, dropping my tone to a husky rasp. “I’m happy to let the anticipation keep building.”
I’m not sure what possessed me to say that, but his jokes make me want to join in. Some part of me wants to make him laugh when he least expects it for a change.
Ciprian groans and closes his eyes. Alistair shakes his head, but I’m pretty sure he’s more amused than annoyed. Luca doesn’t even bother to look up from his mug.
I clear my throat. “There’s no sugarcoating it, so I won’t bother. Helping Alistair last night put you at risk. They might come after you next.”
Ciprian’s face shows no visible reaction to my words. “I killed them all,” he reminds me. “Unless there’s a hell of a necromancer around, I don’t see how they plan to come after me.”
“There’s another player,” I admit, having expected this exact response. “Someone else is working with them who didn’t join the ambush.”
“How do you know that?” Ciprian asks, his brow furrowing.
I cross my arms over my chest, careful not to spill my coffee. “I just do.”
“What exactly do you want me to do with this ridiculously vague information? Scream bloody murder every time I see wings?”
“I’m trying to warn you,” I say. “There’s no need to be a jackass about it. I can tell you with complete certainty that the person behind this attack won’t give up. This is a courtesy heads up, and I’m only issuing it to you at all because you put yourself at risk to save Alistair.”
“Let me get this straight. A bunch of angels are hunting your boyfriend and—” Ciprian cuts himself off, narrows his eyes at me, then snaps his fingers. “Oh, I see. They aren’t after the sexy vampire at all, are they? The angels are here for you.”
“That’s none of your business.” My fingers clench around the mug.
“Like fuck it isn’t,” Ciprian argues. “Anything involving my life and sudden death is certainly my business.”
“If you would let me finish,” I say, seething at his snarky attitude, “I was going to offer to let you stay with me a few days, until all this shit settles down.”
Ciprian freezes, and his mouth drops open until he’s gaping at me.
“This offer is contingent on you keeping quiet and staying out of my way,” I add. “And you’ve got about thirty seconds to make your decision, because I’m already starting to regret it.”
Luca looks at me with a frown.
“You’re obviously invited too,” I say to him, kicking myself for not finding a way to tell him first. “Except you don’t have to keep quiet or stay out of my way.”
“You’re going to let us shack up with your girlfriend?” Ciprian turns his attention to Alistair and voices what may be the stupidest, most irrelevant question I’ve ever heard. I barely hold back a snarl.
“Don’t forget you’ll be shacking up with me as well,” Alistair drawls.
“We’ll need blackout curtains,” Luca mutters. He ambles back to the coffee pot, frowning when he pours what’s left into his mug and it only reaches the halfway mark.
“You’re good with this?” I ask him, surprised by his quick agreement.
“It’s smart,” he says. “If we stick together, we can watch each other’s backs.” Luca doesn’t say your, but the heat in his hazel eyes as they drill into me over the rim of his coffee cup heavily implies it.
It makes me want to argue against my own plan. “Store, sunblock, work?” I ask, keeping it simple.