Her own blood, whatever it was, had hindered her in her youth. Now it seemed that Ty’s blood would deprive her of the only man she’d ever connected with on so deep a level. She would fight it if she knew how.
He lightly stroked the back of her hand, a quick, tender touch that reverberated throughout her entire body.
“Lily,” he said again. “I—”
The knock on the door made them both jerk.
Ty’s head snapped toward the annoying sound. “Who is it?” he asked roughly, and Lily knew that the moment had been broken, irreparably and completely.
“It’s Jaden,” came the familiar voice. But even with two simple words, Lily could hear the strange tone underlying it.
“Rogan wants to see you. And he’s got some… rather odd company you may want to speak to.”
Lily looked at Ty, who seemed as perplexed as she was. He shook his head.
“Would you mind elaborating on that?”
The voice grew testy.
“Yeah, I would. I think you just need to come down. Rogan’s impatient, and you know how he gets with the pacing. It’s driving me mad, and I didn’t have far to go. Just come down.”
Then there was silence, and Lily felt sure Jaden had stalked off as quickly as he’d arrived. It was then she realized that Ty’s hand had stayed on hers. The weight of it, and the symbolism in the gesture, were reassuring.
“You know about me now,” she said, feeling that if there was any time to broach this subject, it was now. “Aren’t you ever going to tell me what happened to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.” He gave her hand a light squeeze, but she saw him shut down and wanted to weep with frustration. He was only going to let her get so close. And in a bitter irony, he was one of the only people she’d ever felt she could get close to.
Ty rose smoothly off the bed, pulling on a shirt. Then he padded to the door, barefoot, and turned once he reached it to look over his shoulder at Lily. In that moment, he looked heartbreakingly beautiful. And he looked like he was walking away.
At some point, he would. That was a reality she had yet to deal with.
“You ready?” he asked.
Lily nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said. But inside, she ached for what could never be. Ty had closed himself off from love. And no amount of power, psychic or otherwise, was going to allow her to breach the walls he’d built around his heart.
Chapter EIGHTEEN
THE SAFE HOUSE was an ugly shell, Ty thought as they made their way down dingy and scuffed stairs, the passage tight enough that it made him slightly claustrophobic. But that didn’t stop it from being genius.
The safe house was cleverly located on a dilapidated street of row houses. Junk cars parked on the street, and garbage spilled into the gutter. A block farther down, crack houses and criminals abounded. It was nothing if not convincing, and no one but an immortal should have dared to venture into this part of the city if they valued their money or their life. But Ty had to admit, Rogan was a master at his trade, which was hiding and ferrying fugitives, along with a bit of illegal this and that for fun and profit. And the construction of this particular safe house was perfect. On the outside, there appeared to be separate homes sharing walls, but on the inside, a warren of interconnected rooms and hallways stretched the length of the block. It was simple enough for the casual visitor to get around in, but only the proprietor himself was capable of navigating all of it. Rogan didn’t share his mazelike designs with anyone, and Ty thought that was fairly emblematic of his old acquaintance’s business philosophy: “When push comes to shove, it’s every man for himself.”
Ty didn’t trust him. Never had, never would. But tonight, he needed him.
The old bastard would get a kick out of that.
Ty heard Lily’s footfalls on the creaking stairs behind him. More, he heard every breath she took, every pulse of her human heart.
Her story was so like his, though she would never know it. To share it would open him in a way he had sworn never to do again. She would know nothing of him, in the end, but that he was Cait Sith and that he hadn’t been worth the affection she’d wasted on him.
Such was the life of the lowbloods who served their masters.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, which were situated at the head of a long hallway. Candles glowed in sconces on the walls, illuminating tired, peeling wallpaper. Most of the rooms were dark, but the doorway to one farther down was bright with the light of many candles. Raucous laughter spilled out toward them, and Ty steeled himself for what was to come.
It had been a hundred years since their last encounter, longer since Ty had declared that he would rather serve in a respectable dynasty than scrape a living being his own master. He doubted Rogan would let him forget it.
Ty turned his head to look slightly behind him at where Lily stood, head cocked, listening intently. Her hair was vibrant in the soft light, and her skin had a luminescent glow. Tiny lights danced in her eyes when she looked back at him.
Gods, but she was beautiful.
But then, there was a reason for that, wasn’t there? She carried a mark that threatened to change the rule of the dynasties, if it were truly that of the Mother. She was human, yes, but she carried high blood.
Her very existence would cause an uproar—that is, if she was allowed to live. And after watching her tonight, he was less and less sure Arsinöe would permit that.
His eyes dropped to her neck, where he noted with a pleasant little shock that she’d tied his ribbon once again. Guilt gnawed at him along with a sudden rush of desire. His ribbon. His woman.
“Rogan will know you’re not my sura, Lily,” he said as gently as he could. Still, he reached out to finger the rich velvet of the ribbon, letting his fingertips brush against the pulse that beat at the base of her throat. It quickened at his touch, and immediately his mind was filled with thoughts of her naked beneath him, his teeth in her neck while he thrust madly inside of her. It was the height of vampire passion, and he knew it would be so good with her. Better than anything he’d ever dreamed in his long life.
It took a great deal of effort to pull his hand away, to speak as though he had nothing on his mind but the matter at hand. “I can’t hide most of the truth from him. He’s got eyes and ears everywhere.”
“I know,” Lily replied. “But this is a safe house, right? Other vampires are in and out of here. They don’t know who I am. All they’re going to know is that I’m not a vampire. So I thought we might as well keep up the pretense. I mean, unless that bothers you.”
He saw the flash of vulnerability, and his guilt only increased. Of course, it had been on a steady rise since the immediate euphoria of having made love to her had worn off. Ever since Jaden had called him on his foolishness.
“No, of course not,” Ty said, feeling his chest tighten. “You’re right.” Then he tried for a joke, wishing for anything to alleviate the almost suffocating need he felt for her. “Just try not to kill anyone or speak in tongues, and we should be good.”
Lily snorted and gave him a smile. “I’m on it.”
“Right, then,” Ty said, forcing his thoughts back to the very delicate matter at hand. “Rogan and I go back a long way. Don’t let him intimidate you, if he tries. And don’t let him grope you if he tries that either. The man’s a bastard, but a clever one, and he should be able to help us.”
“Why can’t we just get in your car and take off?” she asked.
“I wish.” Ty sighed. “But it’s far too late for that. You were… I mean, I was… I couldn’t be certain you were all right. You needed to be somewhere safe, and fast. The area was probably crawling with Dracul, even before the incident with you. They tend not to travel without backup. We won’t get out of here without Rogan’s help. He’ll know this city like the back of his hand. This isn’t my place, but it is his.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re sure we can trust him?”
As though that mattered. She shouldn’t be trusting him. He had warned her, Ty remembered. But it hadn’t made any difference—and how could it, if she felt even half as drawn to him as he was to her? But he had warned her. It was cold comfort. And it was all he had.
And the selfish part of him refused to deal with it right this second, preferring to bask in being part of a unit while it lasted.
“Well,” he said, “Rogan’s out for himself. But he’s a man of his word, and if we meet his price, he’ll hold up his end of the bargain.”
“You’re saying he’s a man of honor.”
The way she said it made him laugh. “Aye, I suppose. But don’t ever tell him that; he’d hate it. Now come on.”
Whatever she’d been expecting a jack-of-all trades criminal vampire to look like, it wasn’t this.
Rogan McCarthy sat in the middle of a dingy living room, sprawled in a ruined recliner and holding court in the cavelike space with a bottle of red liquid parked in the vee of his legs. He was a small man, short and slight, but gifted with the supernatural good looks that all his kind seemed to share. His hair was deep brown and wavy, his features almost elfin, with large dark eyes that tipped up just a bit at the corners. He looked like he might have escaped from a fairy tale, maybe a mischievous sprite or one of the Fae’s more unpredictable members. It was disconcerting. But then, she was quickly learning that with vampires, looks didn’t tell you a thing. They were all beautiful, in their way.
It was their actions that were telling. But that took a bit more time to figure out.
From the demeanor of the small party gathered in the room, Lily guessed there was probably more than blood in Rogan’s bottle. The laughter was just a little too loud, a little too wild, to be naturally induced. And on top of that, their eyes shone reddish in the candlelight, a color she had never seen Ty’s eyes go. She heard him curse softly.
“Careful,” he murmured. “They’re hungry. The alcohol only makes it worse.”
