Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers) (11 page)

“Doesn’t matter,” I lied. “Today—it’s put a lot of things into
perspective for me.” I took a deep breath. “I talked to Stephen.”

Bishop was next to me in a heartbeat, taking hold of my arms.
Electricity sparked between us, making me gasp. Making
him
gasp.

He swore, and let go of me, taking a shaky step back. “You
talked to Stephen. When? Where?”

“He called me. I met him at the mall.”

“Why didn’t you find me?”

“Because I knew if he saw you he’d bolt.” I tried to maintain
my control, but it was difficult. “I wanted to convince him to give me back my
soul.”

His expression was tense. “And did you?”

“I think it was possible, but...we were interrupted. He told me
stuff, Bishop.” I’d kept this from Cassandra, but Bishop needed to know. “He
says that super-gray yesterday—that’s what’s happening to everyone. That grays
go through a stasis—they turn zombie, but it isn’t permanent like we thought.
It’s just a stage. When they come out of it they’re stronger, smarter and
totally sociopathic. If they don’t come out of it...they die.” Panic clawed at
my chest as I related this horrible information. “It’s one or the other. Stephen
wanted to warn me.”

I studied his reaction to this. It wasn’t filled with surprise,
more like grim acceptance. “You already knew this, didn’t you?” I asked.

“I didn’t know for sure.”

“Well, now you do.” Another tremble went through me, and not
just from being cold this time. “It’s going to happen to me.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

I let out a small snort. “You sound so certain I almost believe
you.”

He raised his fierce gaze to mine. His eyes glowed with a soft
blue light in the darkness of my room. “You’re different, Samantha. You’re not
like the others.”

“I don’t know if who my birth mother and father is will have
much to do with this particular outcome.”

He clenched his teeth, anger brightening the celestial energy
in his eyes that held an edge of madness. “It has
everything
to do with it. And you need to keep fighting, keep
resisting. You’re not like the other grays.”

“Is that why you came here? To test me? To see how controlled I
am?” My voice trembled. “Because I hate to break it to you, but I’m not. Not
when you’re this close to me.”

“I had to come here.”

“You
had
to?”

“Yes.”

I looked at him directly, raising my chin. “Then remember, when
I attack you, you’ve only got yourself to blame.”

Chapter 11

My words of warning didn’t seem to panic him. “Are you
planning on attacking me, Samantha?”

My cheeks burned to admit it, but it was the truth. I shrugged.
“Think it, say it. That’s how I’ve always been. Maybe I should keep more of my
thoughts to myself.”

Despite the intense gravity of our discussion, there was now a
small smile playing at Bishop’s lips, which only worked to draw my attention
there. “You’re very honest. Very open. I like that.”

“One more thing we don’t have in common. I’m an open book.
You’re...closed with a lock and key.”

The smile disappeared completely. “What else did Stephen tell
you?”

I’d hit a sore point. We could discuss grays and death and
souls all night long, but any mention of his secrets and he shut down. Typical.
“Not much. Like I said, we were interrupted.” My voice caught. “A girl killed
herself at the mall. Right in front of me.”

His dark brows drew together. “What? Who?”

I shook my head. “It’s not related to Stephen or anything. She
was fine, then she got really depressed, like zero to sixty. Then she...” I drew
in a ragged breath. “It was horrible.”

His expression was grave. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Life and death, Bishop. It can change in a heartbeat. Any
second. Any moment. It can all be taken away. I never realized that before, but
it’s true.”

He drew closer again. “Not to you. You’re going to have a very
long and very happy life. I swear you will.”

The fierce way he said it nearly made me smile again.
“Money-back guarantee?”

“Absolutely.” He searched my face. “There’s something else
troubling you tonight. What is it?”

I
was
an open book. I might as well
not close the cover just yet. I looked up at him, taking in his height, feeling
his very overwhelming presence filling this room. He studied me as if both
fascinated and wary of what I might say next.

“You didn’t tell me you’re an angel of death,” I whispered, my
voice suddenly hoarse.

His gaze darkened. “Cassandra told you.”

I nodded. “I should have guessed. I mean, the way you handle
that dagger...”

“She shouldn’t have scared you.”

“Scared? Me? To find out you’re one of Heaven’s assassins?” I
turned to face my vanity. I could see him behind me in the shadows, watching my
reaction. “I did have a dream you killed me last night.”

“Stupid dream.”

I shrugged a shoulder, studying my reflection. Loose, my hair
was long enough to reach my waist, and hung over my shoulders. “Maybe it was a
vision of the future. I have those, you know. Sometimes.”

“It was just a nightmare. Nothing more.”

“So it’s true. You’re not denying it. You are an angel of
death.”

There was a short pause. “I am.”

My heart skipped a beat at the confirmation. “And if they pull
you back to Heaven and reverse your fallen status, that’s what you’ll continue
to be. An angel given the task to assassinate threats against the human world,
against Heaven itself—threats like my aunt.”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“Or...like a gray you have an inconvenient addiction to.”

This was met by silence for so long that I wasn’t sure if he’d
answer me. But then, “You say whatever’s on your mind, but sometimes you need to
listen with more than just your ears. Words aren’t always that reliable.”

He’d succeeded again in confusing me. “What does that
mean?”

Bishop held my gaze for a moment in the surface of the mirror
without speaking. “I came here tonight to give you something. A gift.”

I blinked at the sudden change in subject, my heart pounding. I
turned to face him directly. “What is it?”

He reached under his shirt and pulled out an object wrapped in
leather. He unwrapped it slowly to reveal the contents.

I tentatively drew a little closer to see it. It was a gold
dagger, smaller than the one he had, which was the better part of a foot
including the hilt. This was more the size of a steak knife, but with a wavy
blade tapering to a sharp tip. A ruby was set into the ornately carved hilt.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I breathed.

He nodded. “It’s something I got at the Trinity museum. They
have no idea what it’s really for or how rare it is. The metal—it’s gold infused
with steel, but it has an old spell on it.”

My gaze shot to his. “Like a magic spell?”

“Yeah.” His lips curved at my amazement. “There is magic in
this world, Samantha. You must realize that by now.”

“I’ve been trying to enjoy what little denial I still have
left.”

He held the small dagger in his hand, and I couldn’t resist
reaching toward it to run my index finger along the hilt, the carving rough
against my touch. When I touched his warm skin, that familiar shiver of energy
sparked between us, making my breath catch.

“This dagger can do damage to a supernatural. It won’t kill an
angel or a demon, but it will hurt them more than a regular knife would.”

I pulled my hand back, alarmed. I sat down on the edge of my
bed. “Why would I need something like that?”

“For protection.”

I searched for the right words. “But we already know I can zap
them if anyone threatens me.”

“You need to be touching them to do that and they can’t be
actively blocking you. There are too many factors in play. A good sharp dagger,
however, doesn’t need anything but the right opportunity to use it. I’m not
saying you’ll need it, but I’d rather know you have it just in case.”

I tried to process all of this. “You said it’s from the museum.
You mean, you—you stole it?”

He looked down at it before looking at me again. “Borrowed.
Without permission.”

That earned a full smile from me, albeit a shaky one. “Bad
angel.”

He laughed softly. “Sometimes rules need to be bent. So will
you accept it?”

I studied the small dagger again. It was so incredible. And I
swear I could feel a hum of otherworldly energy coming off it—much like I did
with Bishop’s Hallowed Blade. “I’ll accept it.”

“Good. Then stand up.” When I did as he asked, he knelt down in
front of me. “The sheath can be strapped to your thigh. It’s the best way for
you to conceal it.”

“Awesome,” I managed. “I’m going to have a concealed weapon at
the ready. I could work for the mob.”

I inhaled sharply as he attached the sheath to my bare right
thigh, and pulled the straps tight. His fingers slid over my skin, sending an
uncontrollable shiver racing through me.

He glanced up at me, his gaze darkening. He had to be able to
hear how loud and fast my heart was beating.

I cleared my throat. “Thanks, I think?”

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t pull away from me immediately,
keeping his hands pressed against my skin, circling the leather sheath. “Try not
to lose it, though. It’s kind of priceless.”

“Noted.” I struggled to breathe normally.

As he rose slowly to his feet, he trailed his hands along my
sides, stopping at my waist, an inch of bare skin between my shorts and top. The
shiver of energy raced between us.

This was different than him being close to me in public.
This—all alone with no one watching us. It felt even more dangerous.

At this point, I couldn’t have pushed him away even if I’d
wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to. His spicy scent sank into me. The
warmth of his touch, normally enough to chase the cold away, burned right into
my skin.

His expression tensed as he looked down to where his hands
grasped my waist. “Touching you...even knowing you’re a nexus...I still don’t
understand why it helps bring such clarity to my mind. Why it feels...”

“Feels?” I could only manage a whisper.

His gaze met mine. “So good.”

I let out a hoarse laugh, throaty and nervous. “Maybe for
you.”

He let go of me abruptly and stepped back. The cold returned
like a bucket of ice water had just been poured on me.

I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.”

“Of course you did. It
is
a bad
thing.” He raked his hand through his messy hair. “I forget too easily. I’m
making this worse for you. Cassandra’s right—so are the others. It’s better if I
stay away. I don’t know why I can’t.”

“Inconvenient addiction,” I reminded him shakily. My hunger
raged like a caged beast inside me, even with him now more than an arm’s reach
away from me. I fought hard to keep it locked up.

“Yeah.” He watched me from the shadows of my room. “Very
inconvenient.”

I sat down heavily on the side of my bed and touched the
leather sheath of the dagger. It was light in weight, barely noticeable. I
focused on the carved hilt, running my fingers over the ruby, feeling its
tingling power across my skin—its
magic.
It was a
pure magic. It had no darkness in it. That much was reassuring.

Bishop stayed silent. My only indication that he hadn’t left
was my ever-present hunger pains, currently holding steady at a level eight. And
a half.

“How long have you been an angel of death?” I asked
quietly.

“Long enough.”

Frustration rippled through me and I looked directly at him. I
couldn’t hold it in any longer, all the questions that rose up in my throat.
“How long since you died? Since Kraven died? Did you die at the same time? Why
is he a demon and you’re an angel? You said you killed him and sent him to Hell.
Did you know that would happen? Is that what made you an angel? Was it some sort
of Heavenly test?”

He turned to the window, placing his hands flat on the pane as
he looked outside to the street. His shoulders were tense. “I can’t talk about
these things.”

“In general? Or just with me? I don’t understand why you refuse
to tell me
anything
about yourself that might help
me understand you better. No wonder I have nightmares about you.” Then I was the
one who swore, before covering my face with my hands.

Bishop was beside me in a moment, kneeling down on the floor
next to my bed and taking my hands in his to pull them away from my face. His
expression held deep torment.

“I don’t keep truths from you to hurt you.”

“Then why?”

His brows drew together. “I just can’t talk about it. You need
to trust me.”

“I want to.”

“I know you rely on your head a lot of the time. You’re smart.
You look at things from that standpoint. That studying and getting good grades
is the only way there is to understand things. But some things can’t be spoken
aloud. Can’t be studied. The truth won’t tell you about me.” He swallowed hard.
“Trust your heart.”

“My heart is a bit of a liar.”

“No, it isn’t.” His grip tightened on my hands enough that I
finally looked at him. Our eyes met and held. “It knows the truth even if you
don’t realize it yet.”

He was so close, too close. Again, I didn’t pull away. I
couldn’t.

“You could have given me that dagger anytime,” I whispered.
“Why now?”

His lips curved to the side. “Maybe I wanted an excuse to visit
you alone in your bedroom.”

That coaxed a very small laugh from me, and despite my better
judgment, I entwined my fingers with him. I didn’t stop looking in his beautiful
blue eyes—eyes I dreamed about every night, even apart from disturbing
nightmares. Most of my dreams about Bishop were very good ones.

I slid off the side of my bed so we kneeled face-to-face with
each other. I released his hands so I could slide my hands up the front of his
chest, his skin warm through the thin barrier of his T-shirt. My thoughts were
falling away with each second that passed.

Dangerous. Too dangerous. Cassandra was right.

I needed to kiss him.

This is why he’d come here. All joking aside, all gifts, and
information and horrible days pushed away.

He’d come here tonight so I would kiss him. So I could satisfy
his inconvenient addiction to me—even if that meant I might take the rest of his
soul.

Bishop’s hands tightened at my waist and he pulled me closer to
him, close enough that I could feel the rapid pulse of his heart against mine.
His eyes glowed an intense blue. I was lost in those eyes as I slid my fingers
over his jaw, cheeks, temples and up into his dark hair, so soft to the
touch.

My lips were only a whisper away from his...

Snap!

The night’s cold, so cold I can see my
breath. My hand shakes as I clutch the torch.

“I can help,” I insist, feeling useless
just standing here.

“No, you stay up there,” James says. “You
can’t see a damn thing, anyway.”

“Go to hell.” I glare at him, but have to
admit the outline of my brother’s familiar form is blurry—only his golden
hair is recognizable to me, lit up like a halo from the torchlight. Dark and
light—that’s what Kara calls us. Total opposites.

I’d never admit that what the doc told me
yesterday has put a deep, shaking fear into me—so much that I couldn’t sleep
a wink last night. If I go blind I’ll be useless to anyone, especially
myself.

It doesn’t take James long before he finds
the body. It’s a fresh grave. At this time of the year, it’s best to get to
them quickly or the ground freezes up, making it impossible to snatch
anything until the spring thaw.

I throw the torch to the side and help him
pull the coffin from the ground, ignoring his protests. It’s hard work and
both of us are sweating buckets by the time we’re finished. I grab the
crowbar and get to work on the lid. The woman was rich and insisted on being
buried wearing her jewelry. How stupid. Can’t take it with you—that’s what
Kara says. But we’d be more than happy to take it
from
you.

“Damn. Look at that rock,” I say,
squinting at the egg-size jewel on her necklace.