“Of course,” I said, gauging her reaction through my lashes, “you could be saying that because he’s your boss.”
“Bah.” Facing me, she leaned against the gleaming silver surface. “He bring us here when he no have to. He could have leave us in Arcadia, slave to Atlanna.” She shuddered, her expression tight with fear. “Yet he fight for us, and bring us through the world-portals.”
While I, the Angel of Death, caused not a spark of worry in this servant, the thought of Atlanna had her trembling. “Was he a slave to the mighty Atlanna?” He was royalty according to Lilla, but could have been under Atlanna’s spell.
“That is enough,” Kyrin said, his voice as warm and rich as I remembered. Glennie hustled back to her duties.
Slowly, I turned. His hair fell in tangled disarray about his shoulders, and his clothing was dirty and wrinkled. I’d never seen him so disheveled. I…liked it. Made him sexy and raw. Made me want to make him dirtier.
“Where were you?” I said, punctuating each word.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you do while I was gone? Were you a good girl?”
“Listen, Grandpa,” I said, pointing a finger in his direction. “You don’t want to irritate me today. After leaving me here without telling me where you were going or what you were doing, you’re at the top of my shit list.”
“Among other things, I visited Dallas,” he said.
“I—” My lips clamped together, and I shook my head. Surely I had misheard. “What did you say?”
“I visited Dallas.”
I shot to my feet and raced toward him. “What happened? How is he?” The words snagged in my throat, emerging broken and unsure.
He clasped my hand in his, his palm warm and soothing. “Close your eyes and let me show you.”
I didn’t question him. This was too important. I simply obeyed.
The moment darkness folded over my eyes, images flashed through my mind.
Kyrin strode down a long, narrow hallway. There were nurses about, but no one paid him any heed. They couldn’t see him. He moved too quickly, like a human bullet. He slipped inside Dallas’s room and removed the oxygen mask from Dallas’s face. He made a deep incision in his own wrist and placed the torn, bleeding flesh over the dying man’s mouth. At first, Dallas did nothing. Then, like a hungry infant, he sucked greedily, drinking Kyrin’s blood. With each second that passed, Dallas’s color deepened.
Kyrin released my hand, and my mind went blank.
My eyelids slowly lifted, and my focus snagged Kyrin’s. Sweat beaded his brow, then tiny rivulets trickled down his temples. Almost too afraid to hope, I rolled away the cuff of his shirt before he could withdraw from me. My eyes widened. A long, jagged scar bubbled the skin of his wrist, matching my own. An hour, maybe two, and his injury would fade completely.
Amazed by what he’d done, I blinked up at him. He’d done it. He’d saved Dallas.
I didn’t know what to think. Didn’t know what to say. My relief and joy were too great. Dallas would live. Dallas would live! My knees weakened, and I almost crashed to the floor in a boneless heap. I grasped Kyrin’s arm and held myself steady, drawing from his strength.
“I—” I gulped. He’d done what he’d sworn he would never do. He’d given me something without receiving Lilla in return. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem good enough.”
“Do not thank me yet. Your friend now bears my blood. Arcadian blood. When he awakens, he will not be the same man he was before.”
I didn’t care. He would be alive, and that was all that mattered. “I do thank you, Kyrin. I thank you with all of my heart.”
He drew in a steady breath. “Then I accept your thanks.”
Biting my lip, I stroked my fingertips up the smoothness of his forearm, over the ridged swelling of the scar. “Why do you still bear the mark?”
“The deeper the incision, the longer the healing requires.”
“Why?” I asked softly. “Why did you save him?”
“For you,” he said simply. “We need each other, and it was time I did my part.”
Those words…I didn’t know how to respond. A lump formed in my throat. He had decided to trust me completely. I saw the knowledge in his eyes, and it scared me. Was I worthy of that kind of trust? If I had to betray him to close my case, I would. Only the job mattered. Didn’t it?
His long lashes dipped in a seductive blink, casting shadows over his cheekbones. “Come. There is something I wish to show you.”
He extended his hand. I faltered briefly—I don’t know why—then placed my palm in his. As with every time we touched, an electric tingle raced up my arm. I expected it this time, yet was still surprised by its intensity. He led me into the dining room. There he laid his free hand flat against one of the panels and said, “Begin scan.” A yellow glow pulsed between each of his fingers before a single panel split down the middle, revealing a downward staircase.
“This is voice and alien flesh activated,” he said. “You will not be able to enter without me. Even my servants cannot enter.”
I was too astonished to comment. We descended the dark flight of stairs, the air clean and welcoming.
“A hidden room,” I muttered. “I should have known.”
He squeezed my hand gently in response.
When we reached the end of the steps, he halted. “This,” he said, “is my lair.”
Bookshelves towered from floor to ceiling, and a huge flat-screen television occupied the center, emitting a spring of colors and shapes. His desk separated the room into two halves. One half boasted shiny oak floorboards, and the other half was softened by a thick faux fur rug.
Kyrin released my hand, and I flexed my empty fingers, suddenly feeling cold and alone—like I’d felt most of my life.
If I weren’t careful, I would come to depend on this man.
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked, changing the focus of my thoughts.
“You will see,” was all he said. Without a glance in my direction, he rooted atop his massive, half-circle desk, separating and stacking papers. “I need but a moment. I did not plan to bring you here so soon.”
While I waited, I strolled through the chamber and studied the wall hangings. Lilla smiled from all of them, her features perfectly stitched. He’d taken great pains to hang these in order of age. His love for his sister was commendable, his need to protect her admirable. A ripple of longing drifted beneath that knowledge. Lord, I missed Dare, his laughter. His love.