Into the Fire

Vlad’s expression had been twisted with frustration and pain as he’d watched me being cut open over and over, but now it hardened into a blankness that actually frightened me. Never before had he looked so cold, as if he were dead inside. If his shields weren’t cracking, sending out bursts of geyserlike emotions into mine, I would’ve sworn that he was dead inside.

But he wasn’t. Another massacre-inducing rage roared through our connection, so strong it took several moments for me to feel the hopelessness beneath it, like spikes being hammered into Vlad’s soul. Viciousness at its most primal followed, then the burn of bitterness, and finally, the agony of remembered loss.

That agony grew, until it covered over everything else. When it was done, Vlad felt like scorched earth inside, and when that charred darkness touched me, I recoiled from it. Then the link between us slammed shut. The abrupt loss was like having half of me suddenly ripped away, and in some ways, that’s exactly what had just happened.

“Stay still,” Vlad ordered, his hand splaying over my stomach. Their heat flared and I choked on a scream as I felt my flesh blacken and blister. His grip tightened, keeping me pinned to the ground, and in a few moments, the pain faded. When I looked down, the silver-embedded, murderous directive was gone.

“You can’t do it,” I said, my voice ragged. “Betraying and killing your friend will destroy you.”

“And losing you won’t?” he said, with a bleak little laugh.

“We’ll find another way,” I insisted.

He drew me to my feet, stripping off his jacket. It was soaked with the same blood that had my shirt wringing wet, and he pulled that off me, throwing it to the ground as if it were foul. My bra followed in a wet heap, leaving me topless for the few seconds it took for Vlad to take off his own shirt and settle it over me. It hung to my thighs, and I kicked off my scarlet-soaked skirt without being prompted.

“Thanks,” I said, not even caring that I’d flashed a rooftop full of strangers during this exchange.

His hand settled beneath his former shirt to rest on my stomach. “Anything for you.”

He began to stroke my abdomen. I leaned closer, but then one of his fingers suddenly turned stovetop hot, leaving a burning path in its wake.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

He didn’t speak, but one look into his hard, flat stare and I figured it out. I tried to wrest away and his grip tightened, his other arm a cage I couldn’t escape as he continued to scorch his reply to Mircea’s captors into my flesh.

I couldn’t tell what he said, but whatever it was, it was short. When he was done, he gripped me to him, not letting go until his reply had faded from my flesh.

“Dammit, Vlad.” Tears clogged my throat, but they weren’t from physical pain. That had vanished along with the words on my stomach. “You can’t do this!”

With my face pressed into his neck, I both heard and felt his scoff. “I’ve done far worse, and for less reason. You keep forgetting that about me, Leila.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it. We had an audience, and an untrustworthy one at that. In fact, we’d already revealed too much to this group. I wasn’t about to give them any more ammunition.

We’ll fight about this later, my look promised Vlad. There had to be a way to avoid killing Samir without signing my death warrant, too.

Vlad drew back until we were standing shoulder to shoulder, yet he kept one arm folded around me. The demon sat exactly where he had been, his hand around his glass as if he were about to take a drink. Ian had risen at some point, and he actually looked a little pale as his gaze flicked between me and Vlad.

“You didn’t tell me that the spell she was bound with could do that to her,” Ian said quietly.

“Why would I?” Vlad replied, green flashing in his eyes.

That’s when an important fact belatedly hit me. Yes, I was slow on the draw, but in my defense, a lot had happened in the short time since we’d been teleported by the demon.

“You look like you again,” I said, running my fingers over Vlad’s dark hair, then touching the stubble that shaded his jaw. “And I’ve been saying your name instead of Angel, plus, I must look like me again, too,” I added, feeling that my hair was long again instead of short. How had I not noticed that before? Guess trying to keep more of my guts from splashing onto my feet had been a real attention-getter.

Vlad frowned, looking at Ian. “I didn’t notice you doing anything to break those spells.”

“He didn’t. I did when I brought you here,” Ashael said, only now getting up from his chair. “I wanted to know exactly who I was dealing with, and undoing a bit of glamour as well as that other little spell is a small matter for my kind.”

“Demons do magic?” This day kept getting worse and worse.

Ashael’s little smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Of course. Who do you think invented it in the first place?”

Chapter 16

“So . . . demons invented magic.” Why was I repeating what he’d said, as if doing so could change anything?

Ashael continued to smile. “Who else? Humans couldn’t have conceived of it, and vampires and ghouls came afterward when Cain was cursed.”

A scoff escaped me. “You buy into the story that vampires were created when God cursed Cain to forever drink blood after killing his brother, Abel? I don’t. If that were true, how come no vampire on earth has ever met Cain?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">