LILY....



I am in so much trouble.

 

I spot Michael working his way through the mass of bodies in the bar, a redhead trailing behind him on stilettos. I have to clench my fist to keep from touching my ginger pixie-cut; at least he’s consistent.

 

His dark dress-shirt is unbuttoned at the top, showing the neckline of a white t-shirt against his golden skin, and his hair is slicked back in wheat-colored waves. He nods to someone on his right, flashing a grin that could melt paint. You can feel the air buzz with the casual confidence coming off of him—the way people seem to lean in, like he has a magnet inside—then he turns, as if he hears something—maybe my heightened heartbeat—and spots me. 

 

His eyes grow a little and his smile fades. He pauses mid-stride and Stiletto Girl nearly bashes into his back from the sudden stop. 

 

His throat moves, he licks his bottom lip—just a little, but enough that I can see his emerging fangs peek through.

 

My chest clenches and my legs go weak.

 

I am in so much trouble. 

 

Michael turns and whispers something to Stiletto Girl. When she begins to protest he leans in, kisses the corner of her mouth, and I can almost feel the silent message he’s sending into her subconscious in my own skin, that hypnotic vibration that makes it impossible to argue.  

 

Stiletto Girl goes still, then wanders off into the growing crowd. And Michael is beside me before I can move. Before I can breathe.

 

“Lily,” he says, his voice low and deadly. He leans onto the bar and sends a vibe for the guy in the stool beside mine to leave, marking his territory. “I didn’t know you were in L.A.” He takes the now-empty seat and a drink is instantly set in front of him; bourbon, neat. As his fingers wrap around the glass I feel them like they’re gripping my wrist. His thumb moves across the tip and the skin at the base of my palm tingles.

 

“Quit it, Michael.” I’m pleasantly surprised, I sound like I mean it. 

 

He gives me a secret smile and my skin tingles again, this time from a memory—him pulling me into that closet as we roamed the underground halls of the Louvre, where the dusty crystal clinked like a song of angels as he put his hands, his lips, to my skin, and took me off the Earth entirely.

 

“I mean it,” I add. I’ll jump into his lap if I don’t speak through this cloud in my head. 

 

“If you say so.” The feeling on my wrist turns off and he takes a sip of his drink. “I thought you were in Seattle with Liam.”

 

I was. And then I was running for my life.

 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Michael?” I’m not sure if I’m pleased with that idea. “I thought you said I was a bore. Or was it, whore?”

 

He laughs, a soft yet unsettling cut at the air. “I believe seeing you wrapped around the bell-boy in Amsterdam set me off a tad.”

 

“You’d left me in the room for three days with nothing to eat. I was hungry.” I wave my hand, dismissing his petty excuses. “As if you never had your snacks on the side.”

 

His grip tightens on his glass and I worry for a second he’ll crush it. “You have no idea, do you, Lily?”

 

“You mean, what a two-faced bastard you are?” I smirk. “Oh, I have a fairly good idea.”

 

I slip off the stool, wanting to get away. Quick. I don’t need this now, not with all the shit I’ve been dealing with lately, the Council, Liam’s curse. And Michael is just another twist of this knife stuck in my back.

 

If I believed in ancient tales, I’d think that Liam was right—maybe Mother did curse me.

 

I feel Michael’s eyes on me as I slip through the pulsing crowd. I make my way to the back of the bar, to the bathroom. When I’m inside I check the stalls. Only one inhabitant in stall three. 

 

“Get out,” I say, not keeping it from being a command. I’m too spun to give a damn about the rules. 

 

Stall Three stops mid-stream and comes out, her skirt hiked up and her panties around her thighs. 

 

I roll my eyes and suggest she fixes herself before heading out into the masses. 

 

She looks down and turns beat red, hurriedly rearranging her clothing. She doesn’t even spare me a glance as she leaves me in the marble-encased water closet, alone. 

 

I lock the main door and back away. I pace for a few seconds—maybe minutes—there’s banging in the background a couple times, people wanting in. I block out the world and groan as I lean against the row of sinks. I can’t let Michael being in town stop me from following through with the deal I made with MacMann. I have to save Liam. 

 

I can’t think about those hard fists, the stories I’ve heard of MacMann’s dark ways, how he uses, how his women seem to end up suddenly forgotten, as if they’d never been. My own future doesn’t matter if Liam’s not with me.

 

My hands shake as I search my purse, pull out a pack of cigarettes, my lighter. 

 

I slip a cig free with my lips and flick the lighter. It sparks. Sparks again. 

 

“Shit!” I toss the thing at the wall.

 

“Tisk-tisk,” comes a voice from the corner shadow. 

 

I don’t bother feigning surprise. 

 

Michael steps into the light. “Are you losing your touch, Lily? You are the Fire Goddess’ daughter, after all.”

 

“Go away,” I mumble around the cigarette. I let the heat fill my fingertips, then put one to the tip of the cig and drag the heat into the paper, pulling the spark out, lighting it. The Council would love to see that, they’ve been looking for an excuse to toss me into The Pit for more than a century, since Mom betrayed them. 

I remove my finger and take another nice long drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, ignoring the sting. Metal. Damn fillers. Not like the old days, but then nothing is.

 

“Breaking the law, now?” He moves to stand opposite me, leans his back against the wall, folds his arms across his chest, casually. His muscles press at the fabric of his shirt. “What a naughty girl.”

 

I blink through the smoke around my head—in my head—and look away. 

 

“Twenty-five feet from any business, Lily.” 

 

I take another drag and blow the smoke at him.

 

He laughs, low and deep, and pushes off the wall. “Oh, sweetie, something’s sure got you in knots. I can feel the restraints holding you down from here.” He moves closer, only a few feet away now.

 

My muscles clench, getting ready to bolt. “You need to go back to Paris or New York, or wherever. You shouldn’t be here right now.”

 

He cocks his head, looking at me sideways. “What’s going on, Lily?”

 

His voice is so soft, so the Old Michael, that my throat betrays me and goes tight with emotions, memories. I shake my head, wishing like hell that I hadn’t come here tonight for one last free meal, that he hadn’t walked in the door, that I’d gone to my fate tomorrow and never seen him again. This is just making what I’m going to have to do ten thousand times harder than it already is. I don’t need to be reminded that I had a connection once, heat against skin and smiles that said a million amazing breathless things.  

 

“I can take care of myself.” Somehow I keep my voice steady. I take one last drag off the cig, then pound the lit end on the countertop behind me and flick the butt into the trash. “You should go back to your dinner and eat her before it’s too late and your glamour wears off.”

 

He slips closer, inside my defenses, only inches away now. He stands there for a second, like he’s feeling for push-back, giving me a chance to say no.

 

I breathe in the scent of him—heat and Ivory soap—and hope he doesn’t notice. 

 

His hand comes up, fingers grazing my collarbone. 

 

My breath freezes in my lungs.

 

“Why would I need her,” he asks, his voice a soft caress against my cheek, “when I have the most delicious meal in the world right here?” His lips part and the tips of his emerging fangs peek through.

 

My legs turn liquid. 

 

His words flick that spark in my chest to flame, and I nearly grip him by the head, pulling him to the pulsing artery at my neck and— 

 

But I shore up my insides, hold tight to my control, and manage a smirk. “That game’s done, Michael. You need to bloody get over it, like I did.”

 

His light copper eyes go darker, heat turning to anger. 

 

I should be glad he’s bought my indifference but at the smell of his surfacing rage, like burnt coffee, doubt works its way through me. I’m walking a fine line here. You don’t piss off a hungry Shade. I might be older than Michael but not, by any stretch of the imagination, am I stronger.

 

“How long have you been in L.A, Lily?” He leans in, nostrils flaring, like he’s taking in the scent of my fear. “Have you let all that sunshine go to your head?”

 

“I just want to be left alone, Michael.”

 

“Do you, now?” That hint of Irish brogue weaves into his words and I know I’ve nearly lost this fight. “I seem to recall you enjoying my company.” He presses against me, pushing my lower back into the counter. His arms lock me in, resting on either side, as his energy begins to pulse around me, as he runs the tip of his nose up the skin of my neck, breathing in deep and long. 

 

He releases the breath in a low growl and I hear someone moan, realizing in the back of my mind, it’s me. 

“Let go, Lily,” he hums, kissing my chin. “Remember how we moved the Earth? Remember how good I taste?”

 

I close my eyes and my head falls back. “Please,” I say, and I’m wishing I was begging him to stop, but I can feel my body betraying me, remembering him, his hands, his strength, his body over mine, and I know I’m begging him for more.

 

He groans in satisfaction, knowing he’s won and takes my head in his hands, kissing me hard enough to crack bone. 

 

Luckily, I’m hardy.

 

I press back, into him, gripping his arms, running my hands up his chest, his neck, through his golden hair. Need filling me.

 

The need to feel him. 

 

Closer. 

 

I tug at his dress shirt, pull it from his pants, tear at seams, buttons tinking across marble.

 

He smiles against my lips, reveling in my urgency, and lifts me onto the counter, pulling the straps of my dress down my arms as he kisses his way across my chest. He rips my bra away and tosses it aside. I slide his belt free and fumble for his zipper, feeling his need for me, hard against my hand.

 

That hidden fire inside me flares, rising, boiling over, my power beginning to pulse off me in waves, lighting my skin in oranges and yellow-gold, as I feel his desire for me fill the air around us. 

 

Only Michael seems to know how to bring the fire beast out of me like this.

 

We both go still, urgency becoming tight and controlled as danger plays between us. The hunger I have for his life-force rises to a dizzying pitch.

 

He puts his hands to my bare knees, slides his palms up my fiery skin, his growing nails scraping to the hem of my skirt. I feel him release his hold against my power as he allows me to take a little where our skin touches, a thread of life, sweet and rich, from him. 

 

Michael; light and summer and laughter, strength and beauty and power. 

 

And hunger. Such hunger it nearly pulls me under.

 

But he’ll wait. He always does. He’ll give his life-force to me until I’m drunk on him and only then will he drink my blood.  

 

His lids are low, eyes dark as midnight, lips swollen, ready to latch onto my skin. He locks my gaze as he slips his fingers under my dress, pushing it slowly up, to my hips, digging his fully grown nails a little harder into my thighs. 

 

My hunger rises to a nearly uncontrollable blaze—it’s been so long since I’ve fed on a life-force as alive as Michael’s. I forgot how addictive he is. I need him against me. Skin to skin. I need. Need.

 

His energy. His life. Inside me. 

 

I move to pull his t-shirt off over his head but he stops my hands. “Let’s leave the clothes on a little, Sweetie.”

 

When I whimper in decent and go for his hem again, he grabs my wrist and pulls it back. “It’s been a while since we’ve done this, Lily. We’ve gotta work our way up to that much skin. I’ve been feeding off human blood for the last hundred years—not exactly the breakfast of champions—and you’re a very hungry demigoddess.”

 

He kisses my palms one by one. “Just let me take you quick and next time we’ll feed for hours if you want.”

 

Next time.

 

His words cut through the fog of hunger in my head. 

 

There won’t be a next time. Not after I’m in MacMann’s hands.

 

“Michael,” I hear myself whisper. And then I feel a betraying tear slip down my cheek. I’ll never taste him again after tonight. I didn't even realize it mattered until this moment.

 

He frowns and takes me gently into his arms, kissing my head. “What is it, mon trésor?” 

 

My heart cracks, one of those fissures he left inside me, opening back up. And I know, beyond a doubt, if he stays in L.A, thinking I care about him even a little, he won’t let go—he’ll get himself eviscerated trying to save me again.

 

So, I shore up my emotions and yank out that last bit of strength I have left. I pull out of his arms, sliding off the counter, making sure to get at least a few feet between us. I reach for anger and rage, finding it easily, thinking of how trapped I’m about to become. “You make me sick,” I choke out.

 

He gapes at me, hunger in his eyes flashing a silver spark.

 

“After all these years, you see me and you think—” I break off, barking out a laugh that’s nearly a sob. “Gods, you thought I would screw you, let you feed off me? As if I would stoop that low again.” I straighten my skirt for something to do with my shaking hands. “I’ve been in the gutter before with your blood-feeding ass and I don’t plan on reliving it. I’m the daughter of a goddess, for gods’ sake. In L.A. I have my pick of the crop out here, Sweetheart.”

 

He frowns. “Holy shit, is your mother on this side of the Veil again?”

 

I can’t help a gasp at the thought. My gut churns, praying to the Great God that’s not true. “No!”

 

“You’re screwing with me.” He reaches out, hooking his finger in my dress strap. 

 

I jerk back, knowing if I land in his arms again, I won’t be able to get out. “You broke my heart, Michael—remember the whole bit where I got so pissed I nearly burned Athens down because you tried to have me evaluated by the Council. It’s not exactly a take-back moment.” 

 

“Give me a fucking break, Lily! You’d started going out and feeding in the open. You nearly put the ambassador's son in a coma! All of Greece was talking. If I didn’t turn you in, the Council would’ve eventually had you tossed into The Pit.”

 

“You were just trying to get back at me for having sex with Jeremiah!”

 

“That Alfar was an asshole!”

 

“And you chopped his head off! Case closed!”

 

“Holy hell, woman!” He runs a hand through his gold hair, looking lost, pissed. But not enough. “What’s going on with you?”

 

I need to stick the knife in, so I just say it. Out loud. “I’m being Bonded.”

 

His breath sucks in and he backs away a step. 

 

“I’m tired of being unprotected, so I’ve found a way to get what I need.”

 

He shakes his head. “I don’t believe it.”

 

I laugh. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

 

“Then what the bloody hell was that?!” He points at the spot on the counter where he had me pinned.

 

I shrug. “I had a laps of judgment for two seconds and let you kiss me. I’m hungry.”

 

He sneers and the smell of his rage and bitterness boil up and fill the room.

 

I’ve got him convinced.

 

The stillness stretches out, becoming cold and hard, the silence as loud as a scream. And after I think he might tear me in half right there, he becomes air and movement, getting inches away from my face. “Whatever you want, Lily,” he grinds out. “As always.” His chest rises and falls like he’s run a marathon and his hunger stings at my skin.

 

“Goodbye,” he says against my cheek, then he’s at the bathroom door, unlocking it, opening it. Before I can put two and two together, he’s taking the woman standing there by the hand, sending his vibrations of calm and safety through her. 

 

As he pulls her into the bathroom I open my mouth to ask him to stop, not to do it here, but before the words can leave my lips, in a swift movement of air and heat, he’s got her pinned in the same spot on the counter he had me only seconds ago, crushing her into him, her neck tilting back, his fangs flashing as a growl of pleasure and rage escapes his chest, then he’s biting down into her nape, releasing her thin life across her skin, down his throat. My flesh crawls, my stomach rises, and I turn away. 

 

He may as well be having sex with her right in front of me. And he knows it.

 

When she’s gone limp he pulls away with a gasp of air and a bloody smile. Then he releases his meal, letting her slip to the floor in a sprawl. 

 

“Now, clean up the mess you made, Lily,” he says. “You should be a pro at it by now.”

 

And he’s gone before I can form a coherent thought...