Chapter Sixty
Michael palmed the ring and came swiftly toward her again, eating the ground in long strides. At once, the debilitating weakness was back, and Angel swayed, ready to topple onto her side. But Michael took a knee before her and slipped an arm around her, holding her upright.
His touch was electric, but in the wrong way. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to meet his eyes. Be strong, Angel. Don’t let him win. Don’t give him control.
He smiled as if he was well aware of her struggle and it pleased him.
Good, she thought. It made her hate him even more. Asshole.
“You were in the entertainment aisle looking at DVD’s,” he told her, peering so easily into her eyes while she struggled under his influence. He’s a son of a bitch who stole fifteen years of your life, Angel. Remember that. “I was ten steps away the whole time. And even with all your training and all your wards, you had no idea.”
He leaned in, placing his face beside hers and inhaling slowly to smell her hair. “I needed the ring, Angel. I needed it because you wore it. It was the only way to complete my spell.”
I was right, she thought. It was magic all along.
Michael was a warlock.
He laughed softly. It was like listening to Lucifer laugh, heartless and coldblooded but strangely beguiling. “You’re figuring it out now, aren’t you? You’re brilliant, sweetheart. I wanted you the moment I set eyes on you.” He leaned in further, and she felt his breath ghost across her ear. “Do you remember that night? The night we met?”
He kissed her ear softly. The cold fire pain in her was back, easing into her from their single point of skin-on-skin contact. Angel gritted her teeth against it.
Yes, I remember. She’d gone to a club with her friends even though it really wasn’t her thing. But it was the anniversary of her parents’ death and her brother hadn’t returned any of her calls and she’d just failed one of her exams. Her roommate was worried about her. So they dragged her to a dance bar.
“You were so out of place,” he said softly, still speaking like a lover into her ear. “Sitting there alone while they danced without you.”
Angel closed her eyes in misery. Between the memory and the impossible pain of the present, she was once more in her own little Hell. She’d been there a lot lately. If she kept visiting this often, she would soon have to start paying the devil taxes.
In her mind, she was in the club. Fifteen years ago. Dressed in jeans and a white V-neck sweater because she owned no “sexy” clothing. She sat alone, just as he’d said, her small form perched on the edge of a red vinyl booth seat, her hands clasped between her knees.
She remembered being miserable. But then the club went dark and the music stopped, and her heart skipped a beat. From the darkness, a few beautiful notes played out clear and mesmerizing. Piano keys, brilliantly dreamed up, expertly manipulated. It was Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. The only song she knew how to play on the piano. Her second-favorite song in the world.
She closed her eyes and let the song wash over her. It rose in volume and escalated in rhythm, a rave version of the song that took Beethoven’s finest notes and gave them electric wings upon which to soar.
Angel had been thoroughly entranced. And when she opened her eyes, Michael was standing before her, his eyes like the storms from which Beethoven’s lightning emerged.
“I asked you to dance,” he said now, whispering into her ear. “And because I was already in your soul, already pulling your beautiful strings, you danced.”
It was true. She hadn’t even hesitated. Now she knew why. She’d been under his spell.
“Do you have any idea how special you are, Angel?” he asked her now, his hand slipping under shirt to spread across her back and send more painful electricity through her. “That night, I’d lost a business deal that cost me thousands. I was pissed, and I cast a desperate spell. I made a desperate deal… and it led me to the club. It led me to you.”
“Michael,” she managed, the pain he let loose in her veins clearing a little of the fog of weakness that kept stealing over her. “Please… it hurts.”
Michael stayed where he was for a moment, holding her against him, his grip even tightening. But then he kissed her again, this time on her neck just below her ear, and he pulled back, letting her go.
When he stood up, Angel dropped forward, gasping for breath. She was shaking, and she was sick and tired of being in this position: She was sick and tired of being weak in front of men with all the control.
Dmitri, she thought in desperation. Where are you now, huh? I thought you wanted to make a deal! Well, I want to make a fucking deal too!
“I apologize for the discomfort,” Michael told her as he stepped back, giving her more space, and little by little strength returned to her limbs. “It’s one of the few caveats of my kind. When I’m hungry… those I desire most suffer the consequences.”
Angel digested his words. And then it hit her, and she looked up. It all made sense now. She was a warden so she’d heard of that particular effect before. She knew exactly what it meant.
“You’re Withered,” she said, mystified.
He smiled, slipping his hands into his pockets. His smile had fangs. It was all the confirmation she needed.
“That means… you really did die that night.”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Voronin was quite thorough. Little did he know the tattoo on my forearm actually hid a birthmark.” He pushed up his jacket sleeve, and Angel saw the Ouroboros. The one he’d made out of a perfect circle. “The mark would see that I returned to the world of the living shortly after Dmitri finished me off. And the magic in my veins would amplify twenty-fold.”
Angel reeled at the news. She couldn’t help but think of the only two Withered she personally knew. One was a very powerful and very shady warlock who’d become Withered by sheer force of the darkness of his magic. And the other was an innocent teenage boy who bore the scythe mark. The mark had seen him make the transformation after he’d died in an explosion.
It would appear Michael… possessed both.
The implications were mind-boggling. Exactly how powerful did that make him?
“I’ve learned the impact of my hunger is far more acute than it is for others of my kind, though I seldom run across anyone I desire badly enough to elicit the effect. I’m afraid you’re bearing the full brunt.”
Angel let that roll over her. It was unfortunate that she was the victim of it, true. But that he desired her was immaterial. Frankly, she didn’t give a shit. She hated this bastard. And she hated herself for not seeing what he was sooner.
As if he felt her hatred, Michael steeled his gaze. He said, “I’ve been planning this night for fifteen years, Angel. Every last detail of it. Because the blood in your veins is worth a goddamn fortune, sweetheart. You are the most valuable thing I have ever laid eyes on. And fifteen years ago, I swore to myself that you would be mine. My own personal fortune dispenser.” He laughed cruelly, and she flinched, but glared at him. “And I mean to keep my promise.”
Angel took the opening of his brief distance from her to search for her own magic. She sent feelers inward, testing the waters. Did she have anything worthwhile left? And what good would it do against a warlock of Michael’s caliber? A Withered warlock, no less?
“Don’t bother, Angel,” he said coldly. “I can feel you fumbling around in that pretty head of yours. Like a small child trying to reach the cookie jar. But there’s no escape for you tonight, my love. This is going to happen. You may as well accept it.”
Accept what? she thought defiantly. What exactly is it you’ve been planning for fifteen years?
“I was going to propose to you that night,” he told her calmly. “And in so doing, give you this ring. But I wasn’t going to stop there. I’ve never been a fan of long engagements.” He looked down at the ring between his fingers. “After the proposal, the wedding ceremony would have begun. And through that ceremony of dark magic, I would have bound you to me irrevocably.”
He fixed her with his gaze, and Angel froze like a deer in headlights. His eyes took on a determined look, making Angel recall every horrible thing she’d read about him in his file. “And then I could have taken what I wanted from you with impunity. Each ounce of your precious healer blood would have made me a small fortune. But more importantly, as the loved ones of powerful figures became sick or were injured, your talent to heal them would have tied them to me.”
Angel listened in ever-increasing horror because she knew Michael would have been the one to bring about that sickness and those injuries. He would have made the evil happen personally.
“Your healing touch would shove these desperate men and women so far down into my pockets, they never would have seen the light of day again.” He gave a small laugh. “Politicians. Priests. Police. You name it. Your very rare, very beautiful body,” he gave her an appreciative once-over, “would have promised me an eternity of wealth and power. And the cherry on top is that you’re stunning, Angel. I would have gone to bed every single night a thoroughly satisfied man.”
Angel felt that nausea from earlier come back. She heard it sniffing at her door and she stifled a moan against it.
“And no matter how I used you my love, you never would have denied me. Not ever. It wouldn’t have even crossed your mind. My control over you would have been absolute.”
Angel cried out with her mind again. She wasn’t picky. She shouted names and prayed like mad. Jake! Please hear me! Dmitri! I’m here! An idea came to her out of sheer desperation, and she grabbed hold of it. “Darius, help me!”
“Like I said, Angel. Fifteen years. This plan is a decade and a half in the making. So as you can imagine, I’ve planned for every eventuality. No one will hear you and no one will help you, not even your sentinel. Even now, your Monsters clan boyfriend searches for you in vain. But he won’t find you in time. I made sure of it.”
“Michael, I’ll cut my fingers off before I put that goddamn ring on,” she told him viciously. And she meant it.
“I’m sure you think you will, Angel.” His expression was hard, and a little sad. As if he was disappointed it had come to this. “But you honestly have no idea who you are dealing with.”