"But... why? Why would she even remember me?"
He shrugged. "You did help her defeat the witches."
"I did nothing."
"You resisted the witches command to capture her, and instead allowed yourself to be beaten nearly to death for your refusal to assist them. You also stood at her side as she fought Edra." His expression was somber. "She has not forgotten. Neither has Dante."
It was all true enough. She had done what she could to thwart the witches in their bid to use the Phoenix as a tool to kill demons.
Still, she couldn't imagine why the woman would request her presence. Certainly not to go shopping of all things.
"That hardly makes us friends." she muttered.
He smiled wryly. "Tell that to Abby. She seems to think a near-death experience gives her the right to not only call you friend, but to ensure that you are not being horribly mistreated beneath my roof."
Clutching the forgotten robe in her hand Shay moved to perch on the edge of the bed. There was something squeezing deep within her.
Something that felt very much like fear.
"Does she know what I am?" she whispered, her gaze trained on the thick carpet at her feet.
She sensed more than heard him cautiously move to stand close to her. She kept her gaze downward. She didn't want him to see her face. Not when she couldn't control her expression.
"What you are?" he demanded.
"Does she know that I'm a demon?"
He hesitated, as if choosing his words with care. "She is aware you have the blood of a Shalott in you."
"And she wants me to go ... shopping with her?"
"Only if it's what you want. I'm sure she would be willing to alter her plans if there is something you would rather do." He was suddenly sitting at her side, close but carefully not touching her. "What is it, Shay? Have I said something to upset you?"
"I don't know what she wants with me. I'm a demon."
He gave a soft laugh. "Abby is not precisely human herself anymore."
"No, she is a goddess."
"A goddess, perhaps, but she's also the woman who battled the witches to save all demons and is now mated to a vampire. She has no prejudice against us if that is what you fear."
Was that what she feared?
Shay hunched her shoulders. The truth was she didn't trust this Abby. Not when she offered something so rare as friendship. Her experience had taught her that such offers always came with a cost. Usually one she didn't want to pay.
Feeling the heavy weight of Viper's gaze she at last heaved a sigh.
"I've never had anyone ask me to go shopping before."
"Ah." She felt him shift to reach around her. She stiffened as she thought he meant to draw her into his arms. No way. She didn't want his pity. Not when she was so vulnerable that she might actually break down and cry.
How embarrassing would that be?
He made no effort to touch her, however, and instead he reached to grab the brush that had been left on the nightstand beside the bed. Only when she warily relaxed did he settle himself so he could begin running the brush through the waist-length tangle of her hair.
"You said your mother raised you as a human?"
The warning voice in the back of her head told her to move away. The feel of his soft, soothing touch was far too intimate, far too pleasurable.
Unfortunately, her mind was no longer attached to her body.
"That was long ago," she muttered.
"Did you pass?"
Shay grimaced. There were those demons who could pass, which simply meant being able to move among the human world without detection. Many of them without a drop ofmortal blood.
The saints knew that she had tried hard enough. She would have done anything to please her mother. Anything to belong.
"No."
The long brush strokes never hesitated. "You look human enough."
Shay found her lashes resting on her cheeks. She never spoke of her past. Not to anyone. But with the peaceful silence surrounding them, and the tender stroke of the brush she found the words tumbling past her lips before she could halt them.
"But I don't age as a mortal. My mother was forced to move us from place to place to make sure no one noticed that I was not growing older as I should be." The memory of her mother sent a shaft of loss ripping through her heart
"A difficulty, for certain, but not insurmountable."
"Perhaps not, but my strength and swiftness were. There is nothing human about them."
He lifted another section of hair to pull the brash through. "The other children were afraid of you?"
"Yes."
"They can be very cruel."
Shay clenched her hands in her lap. "Not as cruel as their parents. Over the years we had our houses burned, stones thrown at us, and priests trying to exorcise the devil from me. I was even lynched one night."
"Lynched?"
"A gang of half-wits hauled me from my bed and hung me by my neck from a tree in our backyard. You can't imagine their surprise when I came looking for them the next morning."
There was a long silence, as if Viper were brooding upon her soft words. His touch remained gentle, but Shay could sense a building frustration that smoldered about him.
Strange.
"Why didn't your mother seek out help from the demons?" he at last demanded.
She turned her head, ignoring the tug on her hair as the strands remained firmly held in his hands. "My father had already been murdered by a vampire. She was trying to keep me hidden from demons."
His eyes darkened, as if he didn't want to be reminded she had every reason to hate vampires.
"There are demons that would have given you sanctuary. Not all are vicious animals."
"My mother was human. She didn't know who she could trust" Without warning her eyes filled with tears. "And neither did I."
The brush abruptly dropped from his hands as he cupped her face in his hands.
"Shay."
Chapter Eight
Shay forgot how to breathe as she watched Viper lower his head.
He moved slowly. Slowly enough that she realized he was giving her ample opportunity to say no. For a heartbeat she stiffened and he hovered over her lips, not touching as he waited for her to push him away.
But while her mind was desperately attempting to remind her that this was a vampire touching her with such care, a vampire who owned her as if she were a piece of property, her body remained stubbornly indifferent to common sense.
She needed his touch. No, she craved his touch.
The taste of his lips. The press of his skin to her own. The caress of his hands on her br**sts.