Chase the Dark (13 page)

“Um,” she said, sharing a confused glance with Lyre.

“I didn’t realize, of course,” the daemon went on vaguely. “His survival was the least important of everything at stake that night. Saving his life cost him everything. He will never forgive me.”

“What are you talking about?” Lyre asked in a hushed voice.

Vejovis refocused on them. “It is his story to tell, not mine. But I will warn you now. If the three of you survive this . . .” He sighed slowly. “He will need your forgiveness. If you can.”

Piper’s brow wrinkled. “Huh?”

The daemon stood. “My dear child, do not forget. Daemons are not humans. We live lives you cannot comprehend, ruled by a world you know nothing of. If you cannot forgive him when the time comes, then you are not strong enough to stand among us.”

“Forgive him for what?” she demanded angrily. “What the hell are you going on about?”

He tugged his bloodstained scrubs straight, ignoring her. “I have a car parked outside. You can have it. If you will accompany me,” he said to Lyre, “we can lay him out in the backseat. It will be twelve hours at least before he wakes from the healing sleep and he will be hungry . . .”

Vejovis’s voice trailed away as he and Lyre descended the stairs. Piper sat alone at the table, staring at nothing. What was Vejovis talking about? What would she have to forgive Ash for?

But then, he had already apologized to her, hadn’t he? For what? Something he’d done or something he’d planned to do? He’d been dying and half delirious. It probably didn’t mean anything. He’d saved her life and Lyre’s. Without him, they never would have gotten free from the prefects, let alone avoided immediate recapture. They never would have been able to break into the medical center, although she half wished they hadn’t.

She swallowed hard and pulled the scrap of paper out of her pocket. SAFE. OFFICE. 14-25-9. Cryptic warnings and nagging suspicions aside, at least she knew where they had to go next.

. . .

“I don’t know, Piper,” Lyre said slowly.

She gave him a stern stare from the passenger seat of the beat-up old four-door. They’d driven in winding circles for hours after leaving the abandoned garage where Ash had almost died. Just like the draconian had done on their first escape, they’d made their trail so convoluted no supernatural tracker would be able to find the end of the tangle. Finally, with the morning sun cresting the horizon, they’d parked in an overgrown park where they had both fallen into an exhausted sleep.

“We can’t wait for Ash to wake up,” she explained for the third time. “We have to move quickly. It won’t be like the medical center. They won’t be expecting us to go back to the scene of the crime.”

“Isn’t it the other way around?” Lyre asked skeptically. “I thought criminals
did
go back to the scene of the crime.”

“Well,
we
are, but only because we need the information in that safe.”

“But without Ash to help . . .”

Together, they looked over their shoulders. Ash lay comatose over the backseat, his dark red hair clashing terrifically with the puke-yellow fabric and a scratchy gray blanket they’d found in the trunk draped over him. He hadn’t so much as stirred in the last ten hours. Zwi was curled in a miserable ball on his chest, watching them with unfriendly golden eyes. She’d gotten so overprotective of her unconscious owner that Piper and Lyre couldn’t so much as touch him without the dragonet hissing and baring her teeth.

Piper took a deep breath and turned back to Lyre. “Look. The information in the safe aside, we’re starving and thirsty. We haven’t showered in days. We need clothes and supplies. The Consulate is the easiest way to get everything we need.” When Lyre opened his mouth to argue, she rushed on. “All we have to do is check the place out. If there’s any sign of people, we can come back here and wait until Ash wakes up.”

Lyre frowned at her as he thought it over. “I don’t get why we can’t wait. You know I don’t have a lot of magic, Piper. I’m okay in a fight but I’ve got nothing on Ash. Of the three of us, he’s the powerhouse. It doesn’t make any sense to go when he’s unconscious.”

“We can’t wait, Lyre. Every day brings the prefects closer to finding us—not to mention all the daemons after the Sahar. And then there’s my father too. He needs our help. Even if Ash woke this minute, it’ll be another day before he’ll be in any shape to do anything physical and days more before he’ll have any magic to use! I bet he used all his stores in that fight.”

At her last words, Lyre’s face froze in an “oh!” expression of epiphany. He lunged over the back of his seat and, ignoring Zwi’s warning hiss, grabbed Ash’s wrist. Fumbling with Ash’s wide leather wristband, he pulled it off and thumped back into his seat. He flipped the wristband over to reveal the inner lining.

Three huge, flat, wine-colored stones sparkled in the sharp light of the sunset. They were embedded into the leather, polished but irregular in shape, and laid out so that two would rest against his inner wrist and one would sit against the top. They were big, all three the size of the end of her thumb.

“Those aren’t rubies,” Piper said, swallowing hard.

“Conundrum,” Lyre said absently, studying the gems. “Damn. Two are empty, and the third has only a little left.”

“Conundrum,” Piper repeated, staring at the twinkling jewels. “But the only stone better than conundrum is diamond. Where did Ash get
three
huge conundrum lodestones?”

Lyre shrugged, still absorbed in the stones. “These are excellent quality. They could hold a lot.” He looked up, meeting Piper’s gaze. “If these stones were charged, then Ash could help right away. Even if he wasn’t up to a physical fight, he would be all set in the magic department.”

She looked at the lodestones, frowning. “But how will we charge them?” She gestured out the car window. “We’re in the worst neighborhood in the worst district of the worst part of the city slums. What people there are around here won’t be helpful. They’ll probably try to rob us, kill us, and stuff our bodies in the trunk of our own car, unless they stole that too.”

Lyre gazed at her, saying nothing, a wrinkle between his brows as though he was considering something he was afraid to suggest.

Piper stared back for a minute before she figured it out. “No way! No freaking way!
Me?
You want
me
to donate? Forget it!”

Lyre gave Piper an up-and-down look with one eyebrow raised. “Don’t overreact or anything, Piper.”

She swallowed a nasty retort. “Sorry, but—
really?
You can’t be serious.”

He shrugged, leaning back against his seat, way too nonchalant. “Why can’t I be serious? Daemons and haemons with magic don’t throw off energy the way humans do—our energy feeds back into our own magic—but since you don’t, you know, have magic . . .”

She gritted her teeth. “I wasn’t arguing about the mechanics of it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I am not having sex with you!”

He threw his head back and laughed. God help her, he was sexy. “Really, Piper, are you that naïve? I don’t have to have sex with you to charge these lodestones.” He swung the wristband back and forth like a pendulum, then rolled his eyes. “Besides, you’re the Head Consul’s
daughter
. And besides
that
, I don’t sleep with virgins anyway.”

Her expression blanked and she hitched an unconvincing scowl on her face to hide anything else that might show up on it. “If you’re not suggesting sex, then what?” Lyre was an incubus; there was only one kind of energy he collected.

Shadows were starting to gather in his eyes. The air seemed warmer, heavier. “Sex is the entrée, Piper,” he said, his voice going softer, deeper. “There’re still all kinds of appetizers.”

She swallowed hard, not quite able to look away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Something that had nothing to do with lust or passion flickered across his face—something angry and resentful. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . you owe Ash, Piper.”

“I—what?”

“He almost died protecting you. He’s been unconscious all night, used all his magic, and made himself completely helpless to save you from that minotaur. You heard what he said: Cottus got him when he killed the minotaur to keep it away from you.”

“But—”

“Do you know how many enemies he has? Half the Underworld would kill him given a good chance.”

“But—but why?”

“Because of who he is. Daemons he’s never met want to kill him. He’s done nothing but keep us safe and this is a chance for
both
of us to help him.” His intense expression softened. “I can’t charge these by myself, Piper.”

She bit her lower lip. “No sex.”

“No sex,” he promised solemnly.

Her nerves twanged like guitar strings. This was a bad idea.
Bad
idea. Incubi were unbelievably good at twisting any and every situation around until it seemed like intimacy made perfect sense. But even if Lyre’s real motive was to fool around with her, she wanted to help charge Ash’s lodestones. What else could she do for him? Giving him back an immediate source of power, the ability to protect himself, was the only gift she could give him to make up for his sacrifices. Come to think of it, she didn’t even understand
why
he kept taking these risks for her.

Lyre propped an elbow against the steering wheel as tension melted from his body. Piper swallowed against the blush rising in her cheeks. The incubus smiled slowly, that half-grin that always made him look playful and seductive. The gold faded from his eyes as shadows gathered in his irises. He was shading fast and if he decided to ignore her no-sex stipulation, she probably wouldn’t be able to stop him. She probably wouldn’t want to.

Her breathing picked up as his stare slid slowly down her body and back up again, leisurely and caressing. A slow-building heat washed through her, but her anxiety was climbing almost as quickly. Lyre licked his lips as his gaze settled on her mouth. Damn, he was good. He hadn’t done anything yet except
look
at her.

“Um,” she choked. “I changed my mind.”

“
Piper
,” he complained. In another minute, he would be too far-gone to take no for an answer. Lyre was about as respectful and morally sound as incubi came, but he was still a daemon with powerful instincts. One did not play hard-to-get with an incubus.

“Look,” he said, taking deep breaths as if he was trying to stay calm and clearheaded. There was a soft, purring undertone to his voice that made her blood heat. She felt feverish. “Let’s just start small. A kiss? If you’re too uncomfortable, then I’ll go take a walk.”

“A kiss,” she repeated breathlessly. Holy crap, she was burning with the urge to melt into his arms. Incubus magic was powerful stuff. She slowly licked her lips.

He nodded encouragingly, one hand wrapped around the steering wheel in a death grip. His eyes were totally black now, bottomless magnets that drew her stare with irresistible force.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Carefully, as though he didn’t want to make any sudden movements, he let go of the steering wheel. She fought not to recoil as he slid cautiously from his seat to hers until their hips were pressed together and she was squashed against the door. The seat wasn’t quite big enough for two.

They stared at one another, her trying to stay calm, him trying to gauge her mood.

She could feel his heat and smell his musky, masculine scent—spicy and alluring with that odd but yummy cherry undertone. He slowly lifted one hand. His fingertips brushed her cheek and she jumped. His touch trailed over her cheek and down the side of her neck, leaving shivery tingles in its wake. He curled his fingers gently around the back of her neck, his palm hot against her skin. His stare held her prisoner and she couldn’t find her voice to tell him to stop. She didn’t know if she wanted to. He leaned closer and she closed her eyes.

His lips brushed hers, soft, almost questioning. She held perfectly still, trying to pretend that one little touch hadn’t sent her heart racing. Then he pressed his mouth to hers. Heat swooped through her belly and spread like fire through her blood. Her hands sank into his hair, pulling him closer. Her mouth opened and he kissed her more deeply. Wild need rushed through her. She was on fire and he was everything she needed, everything she craved so desperately. Without thinking, she hooked her leg over his thigh, pulling him on top of her as she fell back into the car door. She arched her back to press against him and he grabbed her thigh to help pull her other leg around him.

“Lyre,” she panted, tearing her mouth away from his to gasp for air. “I—I changed my mind.”

“What?” he growled against the corner of her mouth. “You are
not
going to tell me—”

“I want you.”

He froze, not breathing. Then, with a frustrated snarl, he shook his head. “No, you can’t change your mind now. You’re not thinking clearly anymore, you—”