“I like it,” she said, moving close enough to wrap her arms around his waist and hug him tight. “It reminds me of the dragon I fell in love with. And it will certainly be easier to explain than the rest when I take you home with me.”
His fingers feathered through the hair at her temples, tucking the jet-black strands behind her ears as he tipped her face up to his. “Take me home with you?” he asked, humor lacing his tone. “Like a stray cat?”
She shrugged one shoulder, holding his gaze even as her insides turned liquid with nerves. “Or like a lover. Or a husband.”
His eyes, still the most gorgeous she’d ever seen, flashed with heat and desire. “Husband,” he said, testing the word on his tongue. “I like the sound of that.”
He lowered his head to capture her mouth, his kiss burning through her as hotly as it had while he was still cursed and breathing fire.
“So do I,” she whispered when they came up for air. “So do I.”
BROTHER’S KEEPER
Lilith Saintcrow
CHAPTER 1
A SHRILL SCREAM JERKED HER OUT OF THE DEEP well of sleep.
Selene fumbled for the phone, pushed her hair back, pressed the talk button. “Mrph.” She managed the trick of rolling over and blinking at the alarm clock. Oh, God, what now? “This had better be good.”
“Lena?” A familiar voice wheezed into the other end of the phone. He gasped again. “Lena, it’s me.”
Oh no. Not another panic attack. “Danny?” Selene sat straight up, her heart pounding. “Danny, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Sweat began to prickle under her arms, the covers turned to strangling fingers before she realized she was awake.
“Cold,” he whispered, breath coming in staccato gasps. “Selene. Help. Help me. The book—the book—”
Another panic attack, it sounds like another one, oh God. They’re getting worse. Selene swung her feet to the cold floor, switching the phone to her right ear, trapping it on her shoulder. “Where are you? Danny? Are you at home?” She grabbed her canvas bag the moment her feet hit the floor, craning her neck to read the Caller ID display. Daniel Thompson, his familiar number. He was at home.
Where else would he be? Danny hadn’t left his apartment for nearly five years. “Keep breathing. Deep breaths, down into your tummy. I’ll be right there.”
“No,” Danny pleaded. His asthmatic wheeze was getting worse. “Cold…Lena. Don’t. Don’t. Danger—” The line went dead.
Selene slammed the phone back into the cradle, her breath hissing in. Her fingers tingled—a sure sign of something awful. What was I dreaming? Something about the sea, again. She raced for the bathroom, grabbing a handful of clothes from the dirty-laundry hamper by the bathroom door. Just keep breathing, Danny. Don’t let the panic get too big for you. I’m on my way. She tripped, nearly fell face-first, banging her forehead on the door. “Shit!”
She yanked her jeans up with one hand and turned on the faucet with the other, splashed her face with cold water. She fastened her thick blond mane with an elastic band and raced for the door, ripping her sweater at the neck as she forced it over her head. She had to hop on one foot to yank her socks on, she jammed her feet into her boots and flung her bag over her head, catching the strap in her hair. Just keep him calm enough to remember not to hurt himself, God. Please.
She slowed down at the end of her block, searching for a cab. One down, nine to go. She sprinted across the street. Rain kissed her cheeks and made the sidewalk slick and slightly gritty under the orange wash of city light. Deep heaving gasps of chill air made her lungs burn. Her forehead smarted, making her eyes water.
She crossed Cliff Street, slowing down, pacing herself. Can’t run myself out on the first blocks or I’ll be useless before I get halfway there. If this is another one of his practical jokes I am just going to kill him.
Three down, seven to go. Selene’s boots pounded into the sidewalk. Rain whispered on the deserted streets and along the length of her messy ponytail, dripped down her neck as she crossed Martin Street and cut across the intersection. There were more streetlamps here, she checked her watch as she ran.
Two-thirty. Santiago City held its breath under the mantle of chill night.
The back of Selene’s neck prickled, uneasiness rippling just under her skin.
Why can’t these things happen in the daylight? Or when I don’t have lecture in the morning? This had better be something good, Danny, I swear to God if you’re just throwing another snit-fit I will never forgive you. Never, ever, ever.
Something chill and panicked began to revolve under her breastbone. The back of Selene’s neck crawled. I’m getting a premonition. Her breath came in miserable harsh sobs of effort. Either that or I’m just spooked. Who wouldn’t be at 2 A.M. in this busted-down part of town? She set her teeth, grimly ignoring the stitch in her side. Danny. Just breathe, please God, let him remember to breathe. Don’t let him be in the kitchen, there are knives in there. This sounds like a doozy, he hasn’t had a bad panic attack in at least six months, Christ don’t let him hurt himself.
“Hey, Selene.”
Selene whirled. “Bruce!” she choked, her hand leaping instinctively to her throat. The silver medallion was still under her sweater, warm against her skin. She hadn’t taken it off. “Good God, don’t do that!” She clenched her hands at her side. If only he was human, I could punch him.
Bruce grinned down at her, canines glittering in the pallid orange light, his eyes glowing just like a small nocturnal animal’s. Beneath his loud polyester sport jacket and eye-searing yellow tie, his narrow spotted chest was pale and hairless. “Don’t worry so much, Lena. I wouldn’t dream of taking a taste. His Highness wouldn’t like that one little bit.” His lips curled back even more, exposing more gleaming teeth.
Selene’s heart slammed once against her ribs. Taking a long deep breath, she willed her pulse to slow. Focus, goddammit! Danny needs you, you can’t fight anyone or anything if you’re busy screaming.
“I don’t have time, Bruce,” she gasped. “Danny’s in trouble.”
“I’ll go with you.” Bruce shrugged and peeled his lanky frame away from the streetlamp. He had just been Turned, and still looked almost human.
Almost. The feral glow in his eyes and the quick jerking of his movements screamed “not-quite-normal.”
Still, for a Nichtvren, Bruce was as close to human as possible. He’d just been Turned, so he didn’t have the scary immobility of older suckheads. Small blessing, but she’d take it. “That’s not neces—” she began.
Bruce folded his arms, the smile gone. “Danny’s under Nikolai’s protection too, Selene. If I let you go over there and get hurt, His Highness will peel off my skin in strips and salt me down.” Bruce shivered, his long pink tongue wetting his lips. “Trust me. I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sweet sake.” Selene wasn’t about to argue with a dead lounge lizard. He fell into step beside her, long legs easily keeping pace as she trotted up the sidewalk. She glanced down. Black loafers and no socks. All you’re missing is a clutch of gold chains and chest hair. She tried to keep her breathing quiet, pushing down a lunatic desire to giggle nervously. Danny, Danny, I’m on my way. Don’t hurt yourself.
“I don’t…know what…he’s thinking,” she gasped, speeding up. “I’m…perfectly…safe.”