Find Me in Darkness (10 page)

As we step further into the room, I see a small, old-fashioned elevator. “Are there apartments above the club? Do you live here?”

“There are a few apartments,” he says. “But no, I don’t live on site, though a few of the brotherhood do.”

“The brotherhood?” He’s leading me across the tile floor away from the elevator and toward a side door.

“Think of it as a partnership. We own the building and run the club.”

“Oh. I’m impressed,” I say, and I mean it. What I have seen of both the building and the club are exceptional. Both well-kept, well-run, and overflowing with taste.

“Are you going to answer me?” he asks as he holds the door open.

I step past him into the humid night air. “Was there a question?” We’re in a small courtyard that connects this building with the one next to it. And though I can see little of it other than than its brick facade, I have the impression that it is at least as old and elegant as number 36.

He takes my elbow. “Yes, there was a question. But I’ll rephrase it. Why are you running from me?”

I look at him. “I’m not. I swear. Just the opposite, really. With anybody else, I would have been long gone by now.”

He seems to study my face, and I have to force myself not to look away, because I am certain that he sees more than I want to reveal. “Why?”

I shrug. “I don’t usually talk like this with other people. I hold things in. About the only time I don’t hold back is on stage, but then I’m someone else.”

“I thought you didn’t like small talk.”

“I don’t. Usually I just don’t talk at all.”

He chuckles. “And yet here you are with me, having a lovely conversation. Why do you think that is?”

“It’s not me,” I say, unable to control the breathy quality of my voice. “So it must be you.”

“Fair enough. Why?”

“Something about you.”

“What?” He takes a step closer.

I take a step back and shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“I do.” He takes another step, and though I try to maintain the distance between us, I no longer can. Somehow he has eased us up against the side of the second building. We’re beside the service door, and I feel the bite of rough brick against my shoulders.

I want to speak, but I seem to have forgotten how. And so I can only look at him, my heart pounding in my chest, my nerves on fire. And yet at the same time, this feels so perfect. So right. And I do not know if I want to fling myself into his arms or run away as far and as fast as I can manage.

“Do you know how the world works, Christina?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not the earth, but the entire of the universe. Time is a relative thing, and matter can be manipulated. But a person’s essence—their energy, their soul—that is the only real truth in the universe.”

I shake my head and tell myself I don’t know what he’s talking about. And that’s true. I don’t. But I can’t deny that his words make me uncomfortable. As if I were to hold them close and polish them to a mirror-shine, I’d see myself reflected back in them.

“Don’t deny it,” he continues. “You understand me. Hell, you
know
me. Maybe not this flesh, but your essence. The core of you. You’ve known me from the first moment you saw me.”

I lick my lips as a vague panic rises in me. “I think you’re confusing me with my mother. She was the one who was in to all that woo-woo past life bullshit.”

“And you’re not?”

“My mom was a nutcase.” I speak firmly and emphasize every word. “I’m nothing like her.”

“There’s nothing crazy about the truth, Christina.” He brushes my cheek with the pad of his thumb, the contact so soothing I want to close my eyes and get lost in it. “And whatever the source, you’re attracted to me. Don’t fight it. Why would you want to? This spark, this connection. It’s not something to run from. It’s something to foster. To build. To grow.

“Christina,” he continues, and I can hear the tension in his voice, as if he’s fighting for control. He moves his thumb, now brushing my lower lip. “Please. Don’t fight me. Hell, don’t fight
us.”

I draw in a stuttering breath. “You’re—you’re very direct.”

“I am. Would you like me to be more direct?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I want you, Christina. In my mind, I already have you.”

“Oh.” I shiver as wave of pleasure crests over me. “What exactly does that mean?”

His mouth curves into the kind of smile that suggests long nights in a warm bed. “So many things. Mostly it means that you’re mine to touch. To tease. To pleasure.” His palm cups my breast and I gasp as his thumb flicks over my nipple. “Do you know how many ways there are to please a woman? Do you know how much delight can be wrought with nothing more than a fingertip?”

I make a small whimpering sound, my body quivering with longing.

“I will show you, Christina. That, and so much more.”

His voice drops to a low, raw whisper that seems to brush my skin with the same sensuality as his touch. “I want to take you to heights you haven’t imagined, go with you to places we could never go before. I want to bind you so that you have no defense against the onslaught of passion, so that you have no choice but to trust me and submit to me. And I want to take you to the edge and back.”

He trails his fingertip over my jawline, and I am already so aroused by his words, that I almost come from that seemingly innocent touch.

“I’m going to fuck you, Christina. But more than that, lover, I’m going to enjoy you. I’m going to please you. And I’m going to make love to you until we have made up for all the lost years and all the missing moments.”

Heat builds in his eyes as he leans toward me. I tense, expecting his touch and wanting his kiss, then exhale in surprise and disappointment when I realize that he is using a key card to open the door next to us.

I swallow. “I thought you were walking me home.”

“I was. My home.”

I start to protest, but he presses his finger over my lips.

“I told you, Christina. I want you.”

“Do you always get what you want?”

He hesitates only briefly, then shakes his head. “No, not always. But I couldn’t bear not to get you.” He gestures to the now-open door. “Will you come in with me?”

“I want to,” I admit. “And that’s not something I would expect to hear myself say.”

“In that case, I’m honored.”

“You have a very strange effect on me.”

“Do I?” His mouth curves with amusement. “I think I like the sound of that.”

“I’m not so sure that I do,” I say honestly.

“Don’t do that.” He cups my chin, his voice earnest. “Don’t fear what’s between us.”

I drag my teeth over my lower lip, even as I dig deep for courage. “I don’t understand it,” I admit. “But I like it.”

And then, before I can stop myself, I raise myself up on my toes, hold on to his shoulders, and capture his mouth in a kiss.

He responds immediately, turning my already wild kiss even more passionate. He captures me with his mouth even while taking my hands in his and stretching them up so that I am flat against the wall, and he is pressed flat against me. Long and hard, and I can feel the press of his erection against my stomach and—oh, dear god—I want more. Everything.
Him.

“Christina.” My name on his lips is as sensual as a caress, as wild as a seduction, and I feel my body opening to him. My breasts hot and heavy, my thighs tingling in anticipation of his touch. And my sex—oh, yes, please. I want to feel him touch me. Stroke me.

I want to get lost to the power of his touch. I want to feel him moving inside me.

And, yes, I want to explode in his arms.

He shifts my wrists so that he can hold my arms up with only one hand. With his right hand now free, he trails his fingers down my body even as his mouth explores my ear, my neck, all sorts of new and enticing erogenous zones that make me tremble with longing. And then his fingers are at my waist. My hip. My thigh.

Now they are rising, higher and higher along the soft skin of my thigh, the thin fabric of my skirt rising with each motion, and my sex throbbing with anticipation of his certain touch.

“Not here,” he murmurs. “Not again. But I have to have you. Please, Christina. Come inside with me.”

Yes, yes.

I want to shout the word. Just the thought of Mal, hot and naked and hard against me is enough to make me abandon everything I know, everything I am. To make me forget everything I’ve feared.

Except
.

I draw in a breath, my body cooling a bit as I force myself to ease back. To
think
, dammit.

Because what would come next?

If I sleep with Mal, what could possibly come next?

I know that the sex will be amazing, but I don’t just want sex. I’ll get tangled up with him. He will fill me. He’ll consume me.

And then, he will break my heart.

I know it as certainly as I draw breath. And so, with infinite regret, I turn my head away from his kisses and shift my stance to close my legs.

“Lover, no…”

The endearment makes me shiver—and almost makes me change my mind. But I hold fast to my decision. “I’m sorry. I—I just can’t. Not now.”

“Christina.”

I shake my head then look up at his face. “It hurts too much.”

I see confusion in his eyes. “What does?”

“The end, Malcolm. I already know I won’t be able to bear it when it ends.”

‡

“W
ho’s watching her?”
Liam asked.

“I should be¸” Mal said. “God
dammit
.” He slammed his fist down at the table, causing Liam and Raine to exchange mild glances. They were in the VIP room, sitting around one of the larger tables they often used for planning missions. Mal and Liam, along with Raine, Jessica, and even Asher, who’d met with Liam earlier in the day for a debrief and was now sitting quietly, soaking up the conversation as he usually did. Asher was quiet, but sharp, and when he spoke, the other members of the brotherhood listened.

That was one of the reasons he’d been named Second and stood ready to replace either Liam or Mal as leader should either of them resign the position or become unable to carry out their duties.

Right now, he was sitting impassively in the wake of Mal’s outburst.

“Fuck,” Mal said as he pressed his fingertips to his temple, wishing he could just pull the pain and frustration out of him like a string.

“Mal,” Jessica said soothingly. “Give her time. She’s coming at this from a completely different place than you are.”

“Do you think I don’t get that?” he snapped, then immediately regretted his temper. “I’m sorry, Jessica. I’m an asshole tonight.”

She flashed a pert smile. “And that’s different from every other night how?”

Mal shot a glance toward Liam. “Can’t you control your wife?”

“Can’t you control yours?”

Mal winced. “Apparently not.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “She said that she can’t bear it when it ends. Why would she say that?”

“You know why,” Raine said, and Mal had to nod. Of course
he
knew why. It was Christina who didn’t understand the wellspring of her fears. And yet her subconscious clearly did understand. Deep inside, Christina believed that what was between them would end because that’s what had happened before.

Because Mal had ended it over and over and over again—had ended
her
—for three thousand years.

Christ, after all that, she’d probably worked up one hell of a grudge.

“Look, man,” Liam said. “I know it’s hard. But right now I need to know who’s watching her.”

“Dante.” Raine said. “He sent Dante.”

Liam’s eyes sharpened. “Did Dante detect that there were fuerie around?”

“No fuerie,” Mal said. “Not now. But I needed to send someone to keep an eye on her, and he was the best choice available.”

Raine made a derisive sound, but otherwise said nothing. Mal knew why he was irritated; both Raine and Dante had been in the VIP lounge when Mal had burst in, saying that he needed a tail on Christina right then.

Raine had volunteered—and Mal had ignored him and assigned Dante. Now he looked at Raine, silently giving him the opportunity to air his gripe. Thankfully, his friend remained quiet.

Not that Mal didn’t understand what Raine was going through. He did. Hell, before he found Callie, Raine had suffered as much as Mal. And he’d fed his grief by taking risks over and over and over again. He’d died more times than Mal could count, and each time he was reborn in the phoenix fire with a new tattoo to mark the birth.

Now there was hardly any skin on Raine that wasn’t inked, and each tat evidenced death, rebirth—and how damn close Raine now was to losing his humanity.

Because while the brotherhood’s bodies were immortal, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a price. Burn too many times, and the phoenix fire would burn out their humanity as well. It had happened only once before—to a brother named Samson who now lived a mindless, violent existence in the brotherhood’s facility in Germany.

It didn’t happen slowly, with each death taking a brother that much closer to the void of madness. On the contrary, it happened all at once, and the only warning was a sensation of spreading darkness during a burn that signaled the coming end.