Chapter 17
Marcus groaned,cracking his eyes open. Every inch of his body ached. Chains clinked and the cuffs on his wrists fell away.
Bishop stood beside the bed, an unreadable expression on his haggard face. Marcus couldn’t remember a time he’d seen the lycan so exhausted. Marcus rubbed his bare wrist. His ankles, he noted, were free too. He eased into a sitting position. “Why is it so blasted dark in here? Get the light.” Every candle was blown out.
Bishop flicked on a lamp and Marcus winced at the sudden burn in his retinas.
“Well?” He squinted at his bodyguard. “Don’t keep me waiting. Did it work?”
Bishop lowered his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Marcus’s gut clenched.
“It didn’t work. Where’s Dove?”
“Here,” said a small voice from the corner. She inched closer to the bed, arms wrapped around her stomach. Her expression drawn.
His heart sank. “What happened?”
“Everything went perfectly.”
“Then why is this infernal creature still inside of me?” he grated, struggling to keep his temper in check.
His Chosen winced. “Because he’s the only thing keeping you alive.”
“Lies,” Marcus spat. “The bastard would say anything to bend you to his will.”
“It’s true,” Bishop said. “Saw it with my own eyes. The harder she tugged the demon’s chain, the closer you came to death. Thought we lost you there for a moment.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Marcus,” Dove whispered, tears spilling down her face.
Marcus withdrew from her look of pity. He extended his arm, glaring at his charred flesh. “Get out.”
“Now, Marcus,” Dove said. “I know you’re disappointed but—”
“Get out!” Marcus roared. “Out of my sight! Both of you!”
Dove flinched as though struck. Despair darkened her eyes, her expression haunted. Bishop stiffened as well, anger in the harsh lines of his face. Gently, he took Dove’s arm, guiding her to the door. With one last daggered look over his shoulder, Bishop exited.
Even with their absence, Marcus was far from alone.
He rose from the bed. His injured leg buckled beneath him, and he caught himself on the bedframe. Once steady, he limped to a covered, standing mirror.
Seething, he ripped the sheet off, and his image glared back at him.
“Show yourself, you piece of shit.” He clenched his fists. “I know you can hear me. Show yourself!”
In the mirror, a shadow loomed behind him. “Hurt her,” said the accusing voice in his head.
“Who, the faerie?” He scoffed. “I’ve done far worse to others who have failed me.” He’d ordered Dove not to give up, and yet, here he was. Alive, with a demon inside of him.
“Your fault. Not hersss.”
“My fault? Funny, I think I’m looking at the bastard who’s to blame.”
“See yourself,” snorted the voice.
“You are the problem here.” Marcus poked his finger into the glass. “You. Not me. Should anyone find out you’re hitching a ride, I could lose everything. My clan won’t follow a leader influenced by a demon. Nor will the Council tolerate your presence. You threaten my very existence.”
“Enemy. Ally. Your choice.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Marcus grated, eyes boring into the image in the mirror.
“Enemy…”
Fire raced up Marcus’s injured thigh and his knee buckled, dropping him to the ground. He tried to brace himself, only to find his damaged arm too weak to support him. “Blast it. What did you do?”
“Ally,” purred the demon.
Energy infused Marcus’s stiffened muscles, and he shot to his feet. Satan’s balls. What was this madness? He tested his weight on two sturdy legs. It’s like the bastard had flipped his switch on and off.
“You weakened me?”
“You are broken. I am exiled. Together, we survive.”
“No.” Marcus raked a hand through his hair. “There is no together. You’re nothing but a disgusting parasite. I don’t need you.” He didn’t need anyone. Not Dove. Not Bishop. No one. Screw them. Screw all of them.
“Fine.”
Again, Marcus collapsed. “Son of a motherfucking bitch.” He tried to rise, but his shaking limbs wouldn’t support him. The left side of his chest ached, the skin drawing tight. His lungs struggled for breath. He grabbed his throat, sucking air into his fire-damaged body. This was how he’d felt when he’d woken on a stretcher, being airlifted to his uncle’s facility.
Memories washed over him in a flood. Marcus sank, drowning in them. Images flickered. Helen and the purse she left on his seat. Her missing wrap she’d gone to retrieve. Watching her race into the casino as he stood beside his favorite sports car. An explosion. Energy pummeled his body. Bones splintered. Pain. Flames licked his flesh. Then nothing. Darkness. Silence.
Death.
He quaked, digging his nails into his palms. The sting grounded him, and he broke free of the memory. He was alive. Alive and gasping for oxygen. His scarred lungs were tight, resistant. His once broken frame stiff and unyielding. Spots danced before his eyes, his head swimming.
The demon truly was the reason he’d survived the explosion. Now that he’d pissed it off, the bastard was going to let him rot.
“I go. You go,” Marcus wheezed.
“So be it.”The demon snarled, his presence ripe with reckless determination.
Figures the prick would be just as stubborn as his host.
“Marcus?” said a hesitant voice. “Are you okay? I heard a hard thump and feared…” Dove. His Chosen. His savior gasped from the doorway and raced to his side. “What happened?”
“You were right.” Words he wouldn’t have uttered if he wasn’t knocking on death’s door. “Need the demon to survive.”
Her pale face swam before his blurred vision. “Which is why I left him inside of you. Don’t tell me you tried to lock him out again.”
He coughed a self-deprecating laugh. “I may have pissed him off.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. You mean this is some kind of bull-headed stand-off?”
“Yep.”
All four of her fuzzy images scowled at him. “The two of you deserve each other.” She released his shoulders, and his head cracked the ground. Ouch.
He grabbed her arm before she could storm away. “Sorry.” He gasped.
“What was that?” She leaned in, her silver locks feathering his chest.
“Sorry I blamed you.”
At this, her forest green eyes rounded. “Holy crap. You’re apologizing.”
“Help. Please.” He placed his life in her hands. Again. Only, this time, he prayed for a much different outcome.
She paled. “Please? By the goddess. You must be dying. What should I do? Call your uncle? Call for a medic?”
“Summon the demon.”
“Okay. Sure. Just hold on, and whatever you do, don’t go into the light.”
He snorted. There would be no light for him. Flames perhaps, but no light.
“Bishop!” she bellowed in a voice that would make a banshee envious.
Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. The door slammed back on its hinges, imbedding in the wall. “What the hell happened?”
“Quick. Get him into the circle,” Dove said, barking orders like a pro. Pride strained Marcus’s tightened chest. He was starting to rub off on her.
Firm hands snagged his ankles and dragged him across the floor. Beside the bed, Bishop grabbed him around the middle and flung him onto the mattress. As he bounced, Marcus couldn’t help the groan that rolled past his lips. The lycan’s bedside manner left much to be desired.
Bishop and Dove moved outside the protective circle where she chanted, words tumbling over each other. “Powers that be, hear me. Earth, wind, fire, water, spirit. I summon you, spirit of the demon.”
Marcus held his breath.
“Anything?” Bishop asked.
“No,” Marcus groaned.
“Darn it. Why isn’t it working?” She stomped her foot. “You’re not blocking him, are you?”
Marcus shook his head, lacking the ability to speak.
“I’ll need to get closer,” Dove said.
The hell she would. Before Marcus could formulate an objection, Dove crawled up on the bed, straddling his hips. Many times he’d pictured her thus, though not in this context. Not that he could appreciate her position in his condition. His heart strained, his pulse stalling. She set her palms on his chest, worried face swimming above him.
“Shadow, come forth.” She smacked his chest and again Marcus fought a groan. If his injuries didn’t kill him, Dove and Bishop surely would.
“Fine, you stubborn donkey. You want to play hardball, game on.” She popped her neck, then planted her hands firmly on his chest. Static prickled his skin beneath her palms. He got the feeling this was going to hurt. Dove acting as his faerie defibrillator.
Wind gusted through the open balcony doors, whipping Dove’s hair. Lightning cracked outside the windows. Her eyes took on a maniacal gleam. She was spectacular. Without a doubt, the powerful necromancer was not living up to her potential. If Marcus weren’t on the verge of dying, he’d have taken a moment to just stare in awe.
Power crackled in the room. Dove’s expression cleared of all emotion, her demeanor becoming trance-like. Her cheeks hollowed, shadows darkening her eyes. She appeared, pale and ethereal, like the queen of the spirit realm. Whereas before she’d shouted and yelled, the quiet menace in her was even more unnerving. In an unnatural voice that sent a chill down his spine, she whispered, “Spirit, I command you. Merge with your host.”
Electricity shot through his body, power charging his cells. Marcus’s muscles seized out of his control. He threw back his head and bellowed. Warmth infused his system, soothing the pain in his body. Energy returned to his withered muscles, his chest rising and falling, each breath stronger than the last, filling his lungs with much needed oxygen.
“It’s working,” he groaned in relief.
Shadows wafted from beneath the bed. They swirled and twisted within the bounds of the containment circle. Worry lanced Marcus’s heart. He didn’t have the energy to control the creature. “Harm her, demon, and it will be the last thing you do.”
“Stupid vampire. You know nothing,”the demon snorted in disgust.
Smokey tendrils slid up Dove’s back in a caress, then released her.
Dove’s rigid frame softened against him, her head rolling forward. Without warning, she collapsed on top of him.
“Dove,” he shouted, holding her, strength returning to his arms.
“What happened?” Bishop said, rushing into the circle. “Did the demon do this?”
Marcus gritted his teeth. Rage burned through his veins. “I don’t know, but if it did, an exorcism will be the least of its worries.”
Dove cracked her eyes open,licked her chapped lips, and winced. Blech. Her mouth tasted like she had rusty braces on her teeth. Her blurry eyeballs drew the room into focus. Whose bed was she sleeping in? At least Ida had been there recently. All the sheets were off the highly polished furniture. While dated, the furnishings and fixtures were classy and masculine. Rich shades of forest green and mahogany gave the space a comfortable feeling. Or maybe it was the fragrance of smokey linen wafting from her pillow.
Movement in the corner snared her attention, and her breath caught. Shadows wrapped a figure sitting in the chair, revealing just the darkened outline of a large man. “Marcus?”
“Hm?” His head lifted off his hand, his elbow propped on the armrest. “You’re awake,” he said in a deliciously rumbly voice.
Memories of the failed exorcism washed over her. Marcus’s anger. Finding him near-death. Forcing the demon to rise. Marcus was likely here to chastise her for how badly she’d screwed up. She resisted the urge to pull the blanket over her head and sleep for a year.
As he stood, the shadows surrounding him parted and dropped, whirling around his ankles. They trailed him as he strode across the room to her.
“What’s with the special effects?” She twirled a finger in his direction, mimicking the shadows.
“It hasn’t stopped since you collapsed.”
Once he was beside the bed, she realized his eyes didn’t match. One pupil glowed red. “So… are you… you?” She bit her lip.
He nodded. “While you were out, the demon and I came to an agreement.”
“You did?” Her mind reeled. Did a tornado blow through the room and drop her in an enchanted land?
“He was upset you drained yourself while saving us from each other.” He scowled. “As was I.”
Warmth infused her face. Aw, shucks, maybe he did care.
“We’ve decided to work together,” he admitted, scowl deepening. “Problem is, neither of us is sure how to make that happen. Once you’ve recovered, maybe you could help.”
Yep. Any moment and Glinda would show up with those ruby slippers. “Back up a minute.” She massaged her temples. “You and Shadow have teamed up, and you want my assistance?”
“Yes. You have skills communicating and manipulating the spirit realm. Perhaps you can teach us.”
“You mean no more taking turns. You locking him out, him seizing control when you sleep. You’ll both exist together?”
“That’s the idea.”
She frowned, not believing her ears. “Did I hit my head?”
He chuckled, smoothing a curl back behind her ear. Finally, she noticed a smudge of crimson on his wrist. So that was why her mouth tasted funny. “You gave me your blood.” Why did that make her insides tingle?
“Least I could do.”
Darn right, it was the least he could do after she ran her magical tank dry for him. She grinned a Cheshire cat smile. “Then, after, you watched over me while I slept in your bed?”
His conscience darkened, the old Marcus rearing his cantankerous head. “My room was the closest,” he grumbled, smoothing the front of his T-shirt. She noted he was still dressed in his black pajama bottoms as well.
“Move over.” He drew back the sheet and slid in beside her, lying on his stomach. Dove skittered out of his way, her mouth agape. And just like that, they were in bed together. Celeste would have a heart attack when she told her.
“Whaaa-hat are you doing?” she asked the back of his head.
When he didn’t answer, she poked his shoulder. “Hey. What are you doing?”
He turned in her direction, his handsome face inches from her own. “It’s my bed, right?”
“Right.”
“I’m sleeping.”
Whoa. He was sleeping? No chains, no barriers to keep his demon under control? “But what about your partner?”
“He’s sleeping too.” He closed his eyes, settling in.
Now that he mentioned it, the swirling shadows lay stagnant along the walls and floors, back where they belonged. When she remained still beside him, he cracked one eye open, scowling at her. “Stay or go. Regardless, you should rest. We’re training at dusk.”
Oh, she wanted to stay. Really, really wanted to stay, and that was why she needed to go. Yep. That’s what needed to happen, so why did she find herself stalling?
“I’ll, um, just grab something to eat. I’m not very sleepy.”
“Good,” he muttered into his pillow, closing his eyes again.
“Good? Why?” Was he trying to get rid of her? So much for that warm, tingling feeling he’d evoked.
His lips curled. A lock of dark hair tumbled over his forehead, giving the possessed vampire an almost boyish look. In that moment, she caught of glimpse of a much younger, untroubled man. “Because you snore.”
She opened her mouth to object, only to snap it shut again. He was right. She totally snored. Great goddess, Marcus Steele had heard her snore. Her cheeks warmed, and she slid out of bed. Then, unable to resist, she circled to his side, drew his covers up over his shoulders, and kissed his temple.
“Sweet dreams, Shadow-Steele,” she whispered. They’d earned it after being at war with each other for so long. She just prayed this new partnership remained amicable. Especially since Marcus had elected Dove, the Havenhouse delinquent, as their teacher.