Avow (5 page)

“Hello children,” called a deceptively friendly voice from the other side of the warehouse. Raven stepped into sight and winked at Gabriel. “Hanging in there?”

He sneered at her.

“Don’t do that, lover.” She
tsked
. “It distorts that handsome face of yours.” She looked at his neck. “Looks like you’re all better. Now we’re even.”

Not even close, whack job.

She skimmed his neck with her fingers.

“Stop touching me,” he said.

She gripped his throat and squeezed for a moment, her sharp nails sinking into his skin as she cut off his oxygen.

“Be nice, Gabriel,” she said with a smile as he choked. Then she released him.

Walking over to the table, Raven picked up the needle and tubing she’d used on him before and injected the needle into him again. Soon a steady stream of red flowed from his neck into a second plastic blood bag.

He tilted his head to better watch her. “What are you going to do with my blood?”

“Get my every wish.”

Cryptic.

Awesome.

Finished with his blood, Raven undid the needle and tubing from Gabriel’s body and glanced at the door. “Guards!”

Five Ashmen entered the room and obediently stood guard in a circle around Heather and Gabriel.

“Nighty-night,” Raven said before exiting the room.

Heather’s mouth hung open. “She’s leaving us here all night?”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “I’m pretty sure that’s how the whole kidnap/ransom thing works.”

Heather wrinkled her nose at the nearest Ashman. “Well this sucks.”

A few minutes of silence passed before Heather made a throaty noise.

Gabriel blinked at her. “Seriously?”

“Shut up,” she huffed.

It was going to be a long night.

***************

Scarlet’s body was clean, but her conscience felt dirty.

Very dirty.

Tristan knew. Well, he didn’t
know
, but he knew. And Scarlet didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep his curious eyes from diving into her soul and coaxing out her secret.

Judging by how very much she’d enjoyed the Tristan tent he’d trapped her in when they’d been in the basement hallway, not long.

They were in the office now, with Nate sitting at the desk staring at a computer screen and Scarlet and Tristan standing behind him on either side. They’d been trying to pinpoint possible Raven locations for the past hour.

Tristan stood with his arms crossed. He’d showered after her and was now wearing a black T-shirt and faded jeans, and his dark hair was still wet and fell around his head in a tousled way that was too sexy for his own good.

Scarlet wanted to run her hands through it—but oh wait. That could kill him.

Definitely too sexy for his own good.

He looked up at her with his green
don’t-lie-to-me-woman
eyes and Scarlet dropped her guilty gaze to the mahogany desktop, searching around until she found a paperweight shaped like a pyramid to stare at.

“I’ll keep looking,” Nate said. “But it might be a good idea to head to Laura’s house tomorrow and ransack the place looking for any clues as to where Raven might hole up with an immortal guy and an overdressed, blond barista.”

Scarlet could still feel Tristan’s eyes boring into her.

Paperweights were so interesting.

Nate sighed and looked at the time. “It’s only three hours until morning and we haven’t really made any progress, so I think it’s best if we all try to get some rest so we’re not completely useless tomorrow.”

Scarlet blinked away from the pyramid.

Right.

Like she was going to get any sleep knowing her best friend was probably in the trunk of Raven’s car. At least Gabriel was with her, probably, so Heather wasn’t facing the crazy witch alone.

As everyone exited the office, Scarlet headed for the stairs. She’d had to roll over the waistband of Tristan’s pajama pants four times to keep them from falling off her small hips, but still they dragged on the floor.

And his shirt—his
shirt
. It smelled like him and wrapped around her body like warm hands gliding over her skin, swishing as she walked. It was all she could do not to shove the material into her nose and inhale like a crazy person.

Why did he have to smell so good? Why couldn’t he smell like burnt toast or nail polish remover? It would be a lot easier to keep from shoving the shirt up her nostrils if
it
smelled like rubbing alcohol.

But this leather smell...

This nostalgic
I live in the wild and hunt in my free time and bathe in rushing rivers
smell was going to kill her. It was literally going to waft into her lungs and kill her with want and need and lack of oxygen.

She yanked at the large shirt, pulling it as far down from her nose as she could as she walked down the hallway and descended the stairs to the basement.

Tristan followed so close behind her she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. Again.

“Ten foot rule,” called Nate.

“Bite me!” Tristan hollered back, more hot breath caressing her skin with his words.

A wonderful shiver ran through her body.

Damn him and his beautiful mouth and hot breath and his leather-smelling shirt.

She assumed he was headed to his own room in the basement, but when she walked into the guest bedroom, he followed her inside. She turned around to tell him to leave her alone, but his bright green eyes derailed her words.

He was so pretty…

No!
No. He was not pretty. He was in danger of dying.

Focus on the danger, Scarlet.

She glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping with you.”

Was he insane?

She lifted a brow. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I’m
concerned
. Not mad.”

“Huh. Well either way you’re not sleeping with me.”

“Yes, I am.”

He was insane.

“No,” Scarlet repeated. “You’re not. You could die, Tristan. We can’t touch and we certainly can’t…sleep together.” She felt her face flush.

A look of amusement crossed his face. “I meant
sleep
, Scar.”

“Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to wake up next to a corpse, so, like…scram.”

“No.”

She moved to push him out the door—on the off chance that she’d suddenly obtained superhuman strength and would be able to move his big body—but he reflexively drew back from her hands, keeping himself from her reach.

He froze for a moment and stared at her hands in a weird way.

“What?” She suddenly felt nervous and dropped her arms.

His lips parted in awe as he tilted his head to the side and looked her over.

Happiness. Relief. Wonder…
His emotions were all warm and fuzzy.

“Tristan, why are you—”

“I don’t have to keep away from you anymore,” he said in realization. “My touch no longer hurts you.”

His eyes traced back down her neck and he reached his hand out.

Oh crap.

Scarlet opened her mouth to protest, but his soft fingertips stroked along her jaw and she forgot what speaking was. Liquid warmth slid into her skin beneath his hand, swirling into her stomach and drying out her throat, and Scarlet had never felt anything so amazing.

His fingers trailed down her neck and softly stroked up and down her throat, his eyes watching the movement in complete fascination. She absently lifted her chin, giving his fingers more room to roam as her eyes fluttered with the curse-granted pleasure his touch brought.

“This,” he moved his hand to her mouth and ran his thumb across her lower lip, “doesn’t hurt you.” He spoke softly and every fiber in Scarlet’s body tightened with desire. “My touch isn’t dangerous anymore.”

Oh, his touch was dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

He could die.

Scarlet’s eyes fell shut as his hand trailed down to the collar of the shirt that smelled like him and drew a hot line along the exposed bit of her collarbone.

“You have no idea how wonderful it is to be able to touch you without hurting you.” The pads of his fingers moved back up her throat.

She was starting to sink into a deep and dreamy pleasure…

He could
die
.

With a strangled inhale, Scarlet opened her eyes. “Stop,” she commanded. “You could die.”

His fingers halted their traveling and he slowly drew his hand away. Scarlet willed her body to calm down as Tristan continued to stare at her in wonderment.

“So, yeah.” She swallowed. “Why don’t you back up like two hundred feet and go sleep in your own bed, and I’ll stay here.”
And try to get my heart under control.

He took one step back—not two hundred—and frowned at her, all wonderment gone from his face as he shook his head. “The pain is worse at night, Scar. If I stay with you, you won’t hurt so much and you’ll be able to sleep.”

“If you stay with me, you’ll get sick.” She shooed him away with her hand, growing irritated. “Quit trying to die. I can handle pain.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to.”

She sighed. “Your bedroom is right next door. I’ll be fine. Go.”

He didn’t move.

“Tristan. Come on.”

He hesitated, looking her over.
Fear, concern, love, frustration.

“Fine,” he finally said and turned to leave the room. At the doorway, he stopped. “But I swear to God, Scar. If I hear you in here crying or something, I will break down your door and tie you to my body.”

Her cheeks flushed again.

“Thanks for the warning.” She smiled tightly. “Now, get out.”

Scarlet locked the door behind him before crawling into the big, white guest bed, images of being tied to Tristan’s body floating through her head.

Damn him.

She wrapped herself under the plush comforter, but knew it was useless. She wouldn’t be sleeping.

Too much had happened. Too much was yet to come.

With a heavy sigh, she stared at the ceiling and tried to figure out what she was going to do about the fountain. She stared and thought and stared and thought. She shifted uncomfortably as pain slid up and down her body like a slab of cheese on a
grater
, growing more intense by the minute.

She stared and thought and ignored the cheese grater for an hour before she couldn’t help but bunch her body into a ball against the pain and bite back a curse. The white bed creaked as she tried to get more comfortable.

It felt like her muscles were twisting together and pulling apart at the same time. Her head hurt. And her lungs were tight—like air was impossible without Tristan. But he was only one room away.

Certainly he hadn’t been in this much pain when she’d been so close in the past. Right? Why was her connection to him so much more intense than his connection had ever been to her?

She tossed and turned, the bed creaking with each of her movements, until she heard Tristan’s bedroom door open. She froze, afraid he’d break down her door and try to snuggle or something. Which would be…well, it would be awesome. But it would also be stupid. He’d better not try to be stupid.

Scarlet listened for a few more minutes, but when there was nothing but silence in the basement and she was sure Tristan had gone back to bed, she let out a long exhale and went back to staring at the ceiling again.

Her pain subsided a bit. Not much, but enough for Scarlet to stop thinking about cheese graters.

She inhaled deeply, smelling Tristan on her shirt and fighting back the sharp pain of sorrow that bit into her heart as she thought about the Fountain of Youth.

The minutes dragged on and—against every desire she had to stay awake and worry about Heather and Gabriel and the curse and the fountain—Scarlet fell into a fitful sleep.

Tristan would never forgive her for what she was going to do.

CHAPTER 4

England 1539

It had been five days since Raven had killed Scarlet and Tristan was drunk.

Again.

It was late in the evening and Gabriel sat in the throne room, watching his twin brother stumble through the doors with a jug of wine.

Tristan pointed a wobbly finger at Gabriel. “You may be in need of a new court healer. Your current one just ran away.”

Gabriel hung his head. “What did you do to him, Tristan?”

He chugged at the wine. “I merely asked him what form of magic could make a body disappear.” He took another swig. “I may have also threatened his well-being if he refused to tell me all he knew.”