Maybe it’s the baby, but maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe it’s the seraph bond responding to too many days and too much distance between me and my men. If they’re suffering similarly…
Sleep sucks me under before I can finish the thought.
* * *
I openmy eyes with a start. Disappointment sours my stomach—or maybe that’s just the baby—when I see the hotel room exactly as I left it. The only difference is the light gone from the windows, replaced by the faded rays of the streetlamp outside.
Grace still isn’t back yet, and if she was anyone else, I might be worried, but she can take care of herself. I saw how many weapons she packed away before she left. The woman is a walking armory, and she knows how to use them. She’ll be fine.
I sit up and rub my hands over my face. Maybe the dream with Wolf was a fluke. Maybe there are a dozen conditions that need be met before I can meet like that with any of the vampires. I just don’t know enough. I’m in the dark and attempting to feel my way. I don’t even have Malachi’s support at my back while I’m doing it.
“What the fuck am I even thinking?” I stagger to my feet and cross to the desk of Grace’s weapons. There are half a dozen knives in varying shapes and sizes, and I choose a small one that fits easily in my palm. “I am not helpless.”
I’m also speaking to an empty room, which might make me certifiable, but it’s better than letting the silence tick out. There are too many things that can go wrong with what I’m about to do. If I think too hard, I’ll talk myself right out of it. So I don’t. I act instead.
I slice a thin line on my forearm and hold it out away from my body. It hurts, but compared to how everything hurts these days, it’s barely noticeable. I turn in a slow circle, leaving droplets of blood behind me, until I’m once again facing the way I started.
My own blood smells savory, which is disconcerting in the extreme, and it only gets worse when I close my eyes and focus internally the way Malachi taught me. I canalmostsense the magic there, lying in wait. It feels different than it did the last time I tried this, but I don’t know enough to guess why.
“Come on, you fucker.” I reach for the power with metaphorical—metaphysical?—hands, but it slips through my palms like water. I grab for it again, with the same result. Again and again and again. Nothing. Fuckingnothing.
I open my eyes as I sink to my knees. My head spins sickeningly, or maybe it’s the room spinning. I don’t know what’s real anymore. Certainly not this nebulous power inside me. I can’t even access it without the men present. How pathetic. “Damn it!” I lift my voice, too loud, but I’m past caring. “Azazel! Azazel!Azazel!”
“You can’t yell my name three times and expect me to arrive.”
I jolt, losing my balance and landing on my ass in the middle of the sad little blood circle I created. One completely devoid of power. And yet here Azazel is. I lean back and narrow my eyes, trying to pick him out of the shadows in the corner of the room. I should be terrified. There’s nothing protecting me from him, and the menace he seems to carry about him like a cloak is in full evidence right now.
He looks much the same as last time, a man with light brown skin, dark hair, and soulless dark eyes. Though no one with a brain in their head would look at him and think he’s something as mundane as aman. He’s a predator in a way even vampires can never aspire to be.
The shadows lick at his legs as he steps around the bed and stares down at me. “You’ve called. I’ve answered. Have you reconsidered the breaking of your bond?” He glances about the room. “Where’s Wolf and the others? Did you finally acquire some sense and flee them?”
“What’s with all the questions?” My voice comes out slightly slurred and I have to lean back against the other bed when the room shifts again. Damn it, what iswrongwith me? I blink down at the red stain spreading across my jeans. For a horrifying moment, I think it’s the baby…but no, it’s nothing as traumatic as that.
I cut my arm too deep.
Or, rather, I haven’t had vampire blood in days. A cut that would have healed already a week ago is now leaking blood steadily down to my thigh where I rest it. A lot of blood. “Damn.”
“You little fool.” He growls under his breath in a language I’m certain isn’t known in this realm and crouches down in front of me. He’s no less terrifying up close. Once again, I get the impression that he’s somehow bigger than he appears, that horns paint shadows across the motel room behind him. A blink and it’s gone, but I can’t quite convince myself I’ve imagined it.
He grabs my arm, moving too quickly for me to jerk away. “This will hurt.”
“Wait—” Pain lances my forearm, so sharp and sudden, it draws a scream from my lips. Or it tries to. He covers my mouth with his other hand. Everything gets a little faded, but how in the gods’ names does his hand wrap around the entire bottom half of my face?
Something isnot rightwith this demon.
“There.” Even his voice has changed, deepening with something akin to irritation. “Now you won’t bleed out before you can accept my bargain.”
I stare blankly down at the scar now carved into my arm. The cut was a straight line. This thing is…not. It’s also red and black, twisted, and angry looking like a tree that attempted to uproot itself. “What did you do to me?”
“You can thank me later.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “The bargain.”
“I…” I lick my lips, trying to focus. “I didn’t call you here to accept your bargain.”
Again that hissing language that hurts my ears. He shoves to his feet. “Tell Wolf to consider the healing a token of our friendship. I have places to be.”
“Wait!”
He pauses, but impatience paints every line of his body. “You’re wasting my time.”