Chapter 20

Logan

Later, when Silver finally falls asleep, cocooned in a tight tangle of limbs, I begin to worry, fear crawling up my spine like creepers up a wall. Should I have gone back to the restaurant and disposed of Gerhard’s dusty remains? How long will it be before Ronin hears the vampire on a date with Jenna Gold is now dead?

But it isn’t just Gerhard’s demise troubling me. Knowing Silver feels the same as I do is both exhilarating and terrifying all at once, like being presented with a dagger of pure gold and then learning it will someday kill me. I try to push the negative thoughts to the back of my mind, tightening arms around her warm body and inhaling the clean, peachy scent at the nape of her neck. In sleep, she looks peaceful and pure. With her rosebud mouth, the sweep of dark lashes against ivory skin, she could be Snow White in the glass coffin. I’m struck by the nagging doubt that soon she’ll come to her senses, want nothing more to do with me.

All too soon, a weak light filters in through the blinds, filling the room with lumpy, gray shadows. I find my thoughts drifting to my sister, Mary Beth, her whimsical fairy voice the day I left her at the quayside in Dublin. I lied to Silver when I said Mary Beth never predicted what would happen to me—she had, though as usual, it was shrouded in mystery, woven into riddles created by her innocent mind trying to make sense of the things she couldn’t understand.

There’s going to be a lot of blood, Logan, she said, a small, white hand tugging gently on the sleeve of my coat. Her mahogany eyes were wide and swirling, like silt kicked up in a stream. It will begin and end with the demon, but you will walk in the light again.

At the time I brushed it off. Mary Beth rarely made sense. Then, after Anastasia turned me, I wondered about it occasionally. Now, having everything to lose, her words lodge themselves like icy splinters in my brain.

Silver’s breathing becomes labored, and she stirs, squeezing my wrist. “What time is it?”

“Early,” I whisper, kissing the hollow below her ear. “Go back to sleep.”

She reaches behind her, twisting strands of my hair between her fingertips. “Did it all really happen?”

“Yes,” I say, rubbing my bristly jaw into the soft skin on her shoulder. “Good and bad.”

She turns over, creases crisscrossing one side of her face where her cheek rested on my arm. “You’re worrying, aren’t you? Usually we’re having sex by now.”

I laugh. “I’m not a total sex pest, Silver. I do have some self-restraint.”

“Not much.”

“True,” I agree, “not where you’re concerned.”

“Have you thought of a plan?” She yawns, stretching like a cat, as if the situation is no more serious than planning our evening meal. I’m relieved by this blasé attitude—I’d half thought she might wake up and regret everything.

“The only thing I need to do is go back to my flat for my passport, pack a few clothes. I can be in and out within half an hour.” I frown, realizing how small a mark I’ll leave on the city I’ve spent the last few years of my life living in. “How about you?”

“I need to call work and the police, then tell Ollie, Vera, and my dad. I have to say, I’m disappointed not to be handing my notice in to bitch Nina in person. I’ve been planning the speech ever since my first day.”

“What were you going to say?” I ask, smiling.

“Oh, something along the lines of ‘You’re a stuck-up, power-crazy bitch whose bitterness will eventually lead to body parts freezing up and dropping off,’ that kind of thing.”

I laugh. “You could always write her an email.”

Her eyes light up, glowing like silver stars in the dull light of the room. “That’s a good idea. I can send it from wherever we end up. You can take a picture of me sipping a cocktail on a beach with a blazing-orange sunset in the background.”

I swipe thumbs across her cheekbones, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I’m sure that can be arranged. Do you think maybe we should aim to leave London by tonight? We could head toward your father’s and stay near there for a few days while we plan where to go.”

A smirk twitches her lips, her gaze faraway and dreamy.

“You look like you’re up to some kind of mental mischief, Miss Harris.”

“I was just thinking about what my stepmother will say when I introduce you. It’s possible you might have to glamour her.”

“Please. Older ladies love me. Mrs. Biggins from the ground floor leaves a casserole outside my door every Sunday. She says I remind her of her late husband.”

“Maybe Mrs. Biggins fancies you.”

“Probably. Doesn’t everyone?”

“No,” she says, swatting me like a fly with the back of her hand. “But anyway, I think that’s a good idea about staying near Dad’s. Though God knows what I’m going to tell him.”

“Tell him the truth: you’ve met the best sex you’ve ever had and you’re off to sunnier climes to ride the life out of him.”

She bursts out laughing, the tinkly sound echoing around the dim room like a ray of sunshine. The sound melts some of my inner turmoil. We grin at each other against the pillows, and my manhood stirs, as if it’s only just noticed there’s a naked woman lying in my arms.

“Looks like our third wheel just woke up,” Silver says, rosebud lips parting as she reaches down to stroke me.

With a growl, I grab her by the shoulders and flip her over, capturing her mouth with mine. Her legs part, her hand guiding my now-twitching erection to her hot warmth. Groaning, I bury myself in her heat, her cry of ecstasy mingling with mine as I grab soft, warm buttocks, sliding in and out of her in a slow rhythm. She comes quickly, back arched, head flung back, the supple, ivory column of her neck quivering as she shouts my name. I continue to pump, her animal yelps and trickling warmth consuming me like a powerful drug, and it isn’t long before I explode inside her, waves of pleasure washing over me like a vicious high tide against the shore.

After, we lie motionless in a knot of limbs and spent passion, my head snug against her warm breast, her fingers anchored in my hair. All these years and no one has ever really mattered to me. I’ve always been running, always afraid to let someone trust me, scared of letting them down. Secretly, I think I was glad when my family rejected me. It left me with nothing to lose, no one Anastasia could hurt. But I can’t run forever.

I curl against her milky body, her hand tightly clasped in mine, Mary Beth’s words reverberating in my head.

It will begin and end with the demon, but you will walk in the light again.

And even though she rarely was, I pray this time she’s wrong.

* * *

Silver insists on coming with me to get my things.

“I’m not letting you disappear again,” she says as we weave through the hubbub of commuters outside Marylebone Station. “No way.”

I smile, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the feeling of nausea in my gut. “Fine,” I say, one arm draped around her waist. “But at least wait in the station for me.”

She frowns with all the naïveté of one who has never come face-to-face with an ancient monster, and peers inside the doors at the large digital clock on the information board. “I’ll give you until quarter past, and then I’m coming in.”

I take a deep breath and turn her around. It’s as if we’ve gone back in time to last week, that morning I kissed her good-bye in Covent Garden. I clasp my hands behind her waist, and she looks up at me, her eyes a perfect match for the marbled-gray sky.

“Don’t say good-bye,” she says. “I’m going to be waiting in that little café. There’s nothing that can happen in half an hour.”

There is though. Lots can happen in half an hour, but I don’t want to scare her. I lean down and brush my lips against hers in a whisper of a kiss. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

We step apart, a draft instantly swirling in the space between us. I freeze, struck by the urge to tell her I love her.

As if she knows what I’m thinking, she holds out her hand and our fingertips touch. “If Collette’s there, tell her I’m going to kick her ass.”

The tension lightens and I smile, putting on a deep Arnie voice. “I’ll be back.”

I turn away, into the glare of the sun, the silhouette of her bright-eyed features burned like a photo negative into the back of my eyelids as I trudge toward Boston Place.

Outside, the door is still broken, though someone has pinned a notice onto the wall inside:

Repairman called for door.

I check my mailbox, relieved to find it filled only with pizza flyers and taxi cards. Though I’m not sure what I was expecting—a poison-pen letter written in the blood of virgins? Surprisingly, that’s not Anastasia’s usual style.

I climb the stairs slowly, my nostrils trying to pick out any unfamiliar scent. But the building smells the same as always, of stale cooking and damp pavements. I shove my key into the lock, turning until the latch clicks. Pushing open the door, I pause on the threshold to listen. But the only noise is the hiss of trains from outside the window, the tick of the clock on the wall. I breathe a massive sigh of relief, chucking my keys onto the counter and stepping into my bedroom that, unlike the last time, is blissfully empty.

Moving fast, I haul the holdall from the top of the wardrobe, feeling in the front pocket to make sure my passport is where I left it. Until a few years ago, all vampires used forged documents to travel around the world—it’s difficult to apply for legal identification when your date of birth is two centuries ago. These days, society having finally accepted us, we can travel with relative ease.

I chuck in spare shoes, a pile of T-shirts, and jeans and grab my personal papers from the drawer in my bedside table. I’m done within ten minutes. Back in the kitchen, I take the key from its chain, leaving it in the fruit bowl next to the microwave. I’ll call the building manager later and let him know I’ve left. He can do what he likes with the rest of my things.

Sighing, I run my hands through my hair, threading fingers around the back of my neck. It’s strange to think this is the last time I will ever stand in the building that was once Rumbold’s apothecary. A feeling of hope races through me, like a chink of sunlight at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Everything can be different now that I’ve stopped running from love. I pick up my holdall and sling it over my shoulder as knocking reverberates through the flat. I shake my head, grinning and looking at the clock on the wall.

“It’s only been fifteen minutes,” I shout, bounding across the room. “Can’t keep away, can—”

The words stick in my throat as I swing the door open, my heart dying for a second time. Ronin McDermott stands on the threshold, his blue eyes dark and unearthly in the weak light of the hallway.

“Is this a bad time, Logan?” He could be a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar he’s so casual, his Scottish accent as calm as a lullaby.

I freeze like a deer in headlights, unable to hide my horror. “I was just on my way out,” I say, the words sticking in my throat like tar.

He looks past me into the room. “Mind if I come in to chat for a few minutes? Unless someone’s waiting for you, of course.”

The mention of a “someone” sends a new wave of fear through me. Does he know?

I do my best to plaster a casual smile on my face. It’s then I remember I still have the holdall flung over my shoulder.

I drop it on the carpet. “I was on my way to the gym.”

Ronin stares at the bulky bag. “I never had you pegged for the fitness type, Logan.”

“I go occasionally,” I say, stepping back into the apartment.

Ronin walks in behind me, casting his gaze around the room. It’s hard to tell from his stony expression what he’s thinking.

“Would you like anything to drink?” I ask, voice wavering.

The overlord waves off the offer with a flick of his hand before turning to face me, his eyes that shade of blue the sky turns right before dawn.

“I’m surprised you haven’t been in contact today,” he says, tearing his eyes from a pile of sports magazines on the oval coffee table and penetrating me with an unflinching stare.

I don’t say anything. I clench my fists at my sides instead, flicking a glance to the clock on the wall. There are still fifteen minutes before I’m due back to meet Silver.

“Because,” he continues, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets, “we had a bit of a situation at a restaurant in Chiswick last night. You must know it. It was the same one I gave you the details of a couple of days ago.”

“Gerhard Johnson,” I say.

“Yes. One of the chefs found his remains. He had nipped out back for a cigarette. Personally, I think that’s exceptionally bad hygiene, don’t you, Logan? A chef smoking and then preparing food for paying customers?”

An icy trickle of fear drips down my spine as I realize he’s toying with me, batting me between his paws like a cat with a mouse. Still, I say nothing.

Ronin’s eyes remain fixed to my face as he begins tipping backward and forward on the balls of his feet, as if he were waiting in line at the grocery store.

“Luckily, the manager of the restaurant is a regular at the club. He contacted me and I arranged to have Gerhard’s body removed before the police got involved. The girl he came with was nowhere to be seen and neither was the other vampire my manager friend saw that evening. The one with dark hair and an Irish accent loitering at the bar.”

I close my eyes for a brief second. “He was about to murder her.”

“Really?” he asks. “How can you be so sure? Would he really have been so careless? The whole restaurant saw them arrive together. If she’d been found dead or disappeared, it wouldn’t have taken long for the police to figure out who the killer was.”

“Forgive me,” I say in a low voice, hit by an uncontrollable surge of anger, “but when a guy has a woman pinned to the wall by her throat, fangs bared, it’s easy to imagine he’s about to kill her.”

“Are you sure you didn’t let your emotions get in the way? We all know Gerhard was one of Anastasia’s.”

“Exactly,” I hiss, unable to keep the fury from my voice. “One of her killers. So I apologize if I got the wrong impression.”

“It’s strange,” he continues, ignoring my rage. “Anastasia came to see me yesterday.”

My stomach flips. “Oh?”

“She was under the impression you’ve fallen in love. She said when she saw you recently, you reeked of a human and that you got very defensive. I put her straight, of course, told her you don’t usually have relationships, vampire or human—not in all the years I’ve known you. Then I threw her out.” He sucks air through his teeth, eyes narrowed. “I hate that woman.”

I swallow. “That makes two of us.”

“Seeing you now though, looking like some lovesick Romeo about to fall on his own dagger, I’m wondering if she might have a point.”

“She doesn’t,” I lie.

Ronin stares pointedly at the bulky holdall on the carpet and sighs. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you, Logan? It’s why you’re already packed.”

My chest tightens. I wish he’d get it over with, stop twisting the knife. I dart another glance at the clock. There are just ten minutes until Silver shows up. I’m still nurturing the hope he doesn’t have a clue about the depth of my betrayal. If I can just get him out of here, we may still have a chance. “Tell me,” I say.

A crease dents the space between his brows. “You’ve killed one of Anastasia’s kin, which means you lose my protection and she is free to avenge herself however she sees fit.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “That’s not a law. I’ve never heard of it.”

He frowns. “If you’ve never heard of it, why are you running?”

I open my mouth to deny it, but at the last moment, change my mind. “I don’t want to work for you anymore, Ronin. I’m done.”

He takes his hands out of his pockets. “Resignation accepted. When Anastasia finds out it was you who killed Gerhard, I’ll say our blood bond is broken and that I have no idea where you are. Which I won’t, of course. I am disappointed to lose you in this way, Logan. I’ve always liked you.”

“So that’s it?” I ask, relief leaking into every tense bone in my body.

“I wouldn’t look quite so pleased. You’re vulnerable without my protection, and if there is a woman, she’s now vulnerable too. If you love her and she’s human, I would let her go if I were you.”

I shake my head, about to answer him, when there is a soft knock at the door. Silver. I meet Ronin’s steady blue gaze.

“Are you going to get that?” he asks, one brow raised.

He’s never seen Silver before, I tell myself. He won’t know who she is. My legs feel as though they are made of rubber as I cross the short distance to the door. I turn the latch with a trembling hand, praying I luck out—that it’ll be Mrs. Biggins with another casserole or even Collette in her underwear.

But when I open the door, it’s Silver, her beautiful, pixie face breaking into a huge smile as I appear behind the door.

I watch the smile freeze on her face as she stares over my shoulder at the man in my apartment.

The wild cry that erupts from Ronin’s throat is almost feral, his voice as fractured as broken bones. “Victoria?”