Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers)

Chapter 11



My words of warning didn’t seem to panic him. “Are you planning on attacking me, Samantha?”

My cheeks burned to admit it, but it was the truth. I shrugged. “Think it, say it. That’s how I’ve always been. Maybe I should keep more of my thoughts to myself.”

Despite the intense gravity of our discussion, there was now a small smile playing at Bishop’s lips, which only worked to draw my attention there. “You’re very honest. Very open. I like that.”

“One more thing we don’t have in common. I’m an open book. You’re...closed with a lock and key.”

The smile disappeared completely. “What else did Stephen tell you?”

I’d hit a sore point. We could discuss grays and death and souls all night long, but any mention of his secrets and he shut down. Typical. “Not much. Like I said, we were interrupted.” My voice caught. “A girl killed herself at the mall. Right in front of me.”

His dark brows drew together. “What? Who?”

I shook my head. “It’s not related to Stephen or anything. She was fine, then she got really depressed, like zero to sixty. Then she...” I drew in a ragged breath. “It was horrible.”

His expression was grave. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Life and death, Bishop. It can change in a heartbeat. Any second. Any moment. It can all be taken away. I never realized that before, but it’s true.”

He drew closer again. “Not to you. You’re going to have a very long and very happy life. I swear you will.”

The fierce way he said it nearly made me smile again. “Money-back guarantee?”

“Absolutely.” He searched my face. “There’s something else troubling you tonight. What is it?”

I was an open book. I might as well not close the cover just yet. I looked up at him, taking in his height, feeling his very overwhelming presence filling this room. He studied me as if both fascinated and wary of what I might say next.

“You didn’t tell me you’re an angel of death,” I whispered, my voice suddenly hoarse.

His gaze darkened. “Cassandra told you.”

I nodded. “I should have guessed. I mean, the way you handle that dagger...”

“She shouldn’t have scared you.”

“Scared? Me? To find out you’re one of Heaven’s assassins?” I turned to face my vanity. I could see him behind me in the shadows, watching my reaction. “I did have a dream you killed me last night.”

“Stupid dream.”

I shrugged a shoulder, studying my reflection. Loose, my hair was long enough to reach my waist, and hung over my shoulders. “Maybe it was a vision of the future. I have those, you know. Sometimes.”

“It was just a nightmare. Nothing more.”

“So it’s true. You’re not denying it. You are an angel of death.”

There was a short pause. “I am.”

My heart skipped a beat at the confirmation. “And if they pull you back to Heaven and reverse your fallen status, that’s what you’ll continue to be. An angel given the task to assassinate threats against the human world, against Heaven itself—threats like my aunt.”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“Or...like a gray you have an inconvenient addiction to.”

This was met by silence for so long that I wasn’t sure if he’d answer me. But then, “You say whatever’s on your mind, but sometimes you need to listen with more than just your ears. Words aren’t always that reliable.”

He’d succeeded again in confusing me. “What does that mean?”

Bishop held my gaze for a moment in the surface of the mirror without speaking. “I came here tonight to give you something. A gift.”

I blinked at the sudden change in subject, my heart pounding. I turned to face him directly. “What is it?”

He reached under his shirt and pulled out an object wrapped in leather. He unwrapped it slowly to reveal the contents.

I tentatively drew a little closer to see it. It was a gold dagger, smaller than the one he had, which was the better part of a foot including the hilt. This was more the size of a steak knife, but with a wavy blade tapering to a sharp tip. A ruby was set into the ornately carved hilt.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I breathed.

He nodded. “It’s something I got at the Trinity museum. They have no idea what it’s really for or how rare it is. The metal—it’s gold infused with steel, but it has an old spell on it.”

My gaze shot to his. “Like a magic spell?”

“Yeah.” His lips curved at my amazement. “There is magic in this world, Samantha. You must realize that by now.”

“I’ve been trying to enjoy what little denial I still have left.”

He held the small dagger in his hand, and I couldn’t resist reaching toward it to run my index finger along the hilt, the carving rough against my touch. When I touched his warm skin, that familiar shiver of energy sparked between us, making my breath catch.

“This dagger can do damage to a supernatural. It won’t kill an angel or a demon, but it will hurt them more than a regular knife would.”

I pulled my hand back, alarmed. I sat down on the edge of my bed. “Why would I need something like that?”

“For protection.”

I searched for the right words. “But we already know I can zap them if anyone threatens me.”

“You need to be touching them to do that and they can’t be actively blocking you. There are too many factors in play. A good sharp dagger, however, doesn’t need anything but the right opportunity to use it. I’m not saying you’ll need it, but I’d rather know you have it just in case.”

I tried to process all of this. “You said it’s from the museum. You mean, you—you stole it?”

He looked down at it before looking at me again. “Borrowed. Without permission.”

That earned a full smile from me, albeit a shaky one. “Bad angel.”

He laughed softly. “Sometimes rules need to be bent. So will you accept it?”

I studied the small dagger again. It was so incredible. And I swear I could feel a hum of otherworldly energy coming off it—much like I did with Bishop’s Hallowed Blade. “I’ll accept it.”

“Good. Then stand up.” When I did as he asked, he knelt down in front of me. “The sheath can be strapped to your thigh. It’s the best way for you to conceal it.”

“Awesome,” I managed. “I’m going to have a concealed weapon at the ready. I could work for the mob.”

I inhaled sharply as he attached the sheath to my bare right thigh, and pulled the straps tight. His fingers slid over my skin, sending an uncontrollable shiver racing through me.

He glanced up at me, his gaze darkening. He had to be able to hear how loud and fast my heart was beating.

I cleared my throat. “Thanks, I think?”

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t pull away from me immediately, keeping his hands pressed against my skin, circling the leather sheath. “Try not to lose it, though. It’s kind of priceless.”

“Noted.” I struggled to breathe normally.

As he rose slowly to his feet, he trailed his hands along my sides, stopping at my waist, an inch of bare skin between my shorts and top. The shiver of energy raced between us.

This was different than him being close to me in public. This—all alone with no one watching us. It felt even more dangerous.

At this point, I couldn’t have pushed him away even if I’d wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to. His spicy scent sank into me. The warmth of his touch, normally enough to chase the cold away, burned right into my skin.

His expression tensed as he looked down to where his hands grasped my waist. “Touching you...even knowing you’re a nexus...I still don’t understand why it helps bring such clarity to my mind. Why it feels...”

“Feels?” I could only manage a whisper.

His gaze met mine. “So good.”

I let out a hoarse laugh, throaty and nervous. “Maybe for you.”

He let go of me abruptly and stepped back. The cold returned like a bucket of ice water had just been poured on me.

I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.”

“Of course you did. It is a bad thing.” He raked his hand through his messy hair. “I forget too easily. I’m making this worse for you. Cassandra’s right—so are the others. It’s better if I stay away. I don’t know why I can’t.”

“Inconvenient addiction,” I reminded him shakily. My hunger raged like a caged beast inside me, even with him now more than an arm’s reach away from me. I fought hard to keep it locked up.

“Yeah.” He watched me from the shadows of my room. “Very inconvenient.”

I sat down heavily on the side of my bed and touched the leather sheath of the dagger. It was light in weight, barely noticeable. I focused on the carved hilt, running my fingers over the ruby, feeling its tingling power across my skin—its magic. It was a pure magic. It had no darkness in it. That much was reassuring.

Bishop stayed silent. My only indication that he hadn’t left was my ever-present hunger pains, currently holding steady at a level eight. And a half.

“How long have you been an angel of death?” I asked quietly.

“Long enough.”

Frustration rippled through me and I looked directly at him. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, all the questions that rose up in my throat. “How long since you died? Since Kraven died? Did you die at the same time? Why is he a demon and you’re an angel? You said you killed him and sent him to Hell. Did you know that would happen? Is that what made you an angel? Was it some sort of Heavenly test?”

He turned to the window, placing his hands flat on the pane as he looked outside to the street. His shoulders were tense. “I can’t talk about these things.”

“In general? Or just with me? I don’t understand why you refuse to tell me anything about yourself that might help me understand you better. No wonder I have nightmares about you.” Then I was the one who swore, before covering my face with my hands.

Bishop was beside me in a moment, kneeling down on the floor next to my bed and taking my hands in his to pull them away from my face. His expression held deep torment.

“I don’t keep truths from you to hurt you.”

“Then why?”

His brows drew together. “I just can’t talk about it. You need to trust me.”

“I want to.”

“I know you rely on your head a lot of the time. You’re smart. You look at things from that standpoint. That studying and getting good grades is the only way there is to understand things. But some things can’t be spoken aloud. Can’t be studied. The truth won’t tell you about me.” He swallowed hard. “Trust your heart.”

“My heart is a bit of a liar.”

“No, it isn’t.” His grip tightened on my hands enough that I finally looked at him. Our eyes met and held. “It knows the truth even if you don’t realize it yet.”

He was so close, too close. Again, I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.

“You could have given me that dagger anytime,” I whispered. “Why now?”

His lips curved to the side. “Maybe I wanted an excuse to visit you alone in your bedroom.”

That coaxed a very small laugh from me, and despite my better judgment, I entwined my fingers with him. I didn’t stop looking in his beautiful blue eyes—eyes I dreamed about every night, even apart from disturbing nightmares. Most of my dreams about Bishop were very good ones.

I slid off the side of my bed so we kneeled face-to-face with each other. I released his hands so I could slide my hands up the front of his chest, his skin warm through the thin barrier of his T-shirt. My thoughts were falling away with each second that passed.

Dangerous. Too dangerous. Cassandra was right.

I needed to kiss him.

This is why he’d come here. All joking aside, all gifts, and information and horrible days pushed away.

He’d come here tonight so I would kiss him. So I could satisfy his inconvenient addiction to me—even if that meant I might take the rest of his soul.

Bishop’s hands tightened at my waist and he pulled me closer to him, close enough that I could feel the rapid pulse of his heart against mine. His eyes glowed an intense blue. I was lost in those eyes as I slid my fingers over his jaw, cheeks, temples and up into his dark hair, so soft to the touch.

My lips were only a whisper away from his...

Snap!

The night’s cold, so cold I can see my breath. My hand shakes as I clutch the torch.

“I can help,” I insist, feeling useless just standing here.

“No, you stay up there,” James says. “You can’t see a damn thing, anyway.”

“Go to hell.” I glare at him, but have to admit the outline of my brother’s familiar form is blurry—only his golden hair is recognizable to me, lit up like a halo from the torchlight. Dark and light—that’s what Kara calls us. Total opposites.

I’d never admit that what the doc told me yesterday has put a deep, shaking fear into me—so much that I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. If I go blind I’ll be useless to anyone, especially myself.

It doesn’t take James long before he finds the body. It’s a fresh grave. At this time of the year, it’s best to get to them quickly or the ground freezes up, making it impossible to snatch anything until the spring thaw.

I throw the torch to the side and help him pull the coffin from the ground, ignoring his protests. It’s hard work and both of us are sweating buckets by the time we’re finished. I grab the crowbar and get to work on the lid. The woman was rich and insisted on being buried wearing her jewelry. How stupid. Can’t take it with you—that’s what Kara says. But we’d be more than happy to take it from you.

“Damn. Look at that rock,” I say, squinting at the egg-size jewel on her necklace.

“I know. She knew how to live.”

“And now she knows how to die. Paper says she choked to death on some fancy food at a party.” I peel the jewels from her wrists, fingers and neck, and toss them in my canvas bag. “What about the body?”

James twists the small gold cross at his throat, his expression turning thoughtful. “We’re taking it, too.”

I hate this part the most. Stealing jewelry is fine. Stealing bodies...I’d never get used to it. “Let’s leave her this time.”

“Leave her?” James frowns. “You know Kara will be furious if we don’t do exactly what she says.”

“Do we always have to do what Kara says?”

Frown forgotten, a typical grin creeps across my brother’s face. “You always do, kid. Anything she asks and then you beg for more. Why should this be any different?”

“Ass.” His comment earns him another glare, even if it’s true. I hated when he called me kid. I’m fifteen now, just turned. At sixteen, my brother thinks he knows everything.

Stealing bodies to sell to the medical school is the least that Kara asks of us in her grand schemes. Her goals have grown much darker now that she’s joined that new club of hers. She claims it’s going to give her all the power she ever wanted—by tapping into the occult.

I don’t believe any of that. I’m too busy to waste my time chasing fairy tales. I’d leave that kind of nonsense to her.

She isn’t with us tonight. She’s with her new friend as they attempt to summon a spirit from the beyond.

What a waste of time.

Fingers of dread crawl over my flesh as I look down at the dead woman’s face. I hate graveyards. And tonight feels worse than normal.

“Something wrong?” James asks.

“I don’t trust her.”

“Who, Kara? That makes two of us.” James’s grin holds. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re in this together, you and me. Till the end.”

I nod, reassured. “Till the end.”

“She gets the body, we get the jewels. We’ll scrape together enough to get your eyes fixed or get the best goddamned pair of specs in the whole—”

Snap!

Bishop got to his feet and staggered back from me across my bedroom until he hit the wall.

“What—?” he began, his brows drawn tightly together. “What did you just do?”

I didn’t get up from the floor. Instead, I stared at him, my eyes wide. “I don’t know.”

And I didn’t. When I normally had my mind melds with Bishop, I saw through his eyes—but I was still me. This time, it was different. I wasn’t me. I wasn’t there. It was all Bishop—his thoughts, his emotions, his everything.

“What did you see?” he asked quietly.

I had no idea what it would have felt like for him. He didn’t usually realize when I had my “normal” peeks into his daily life. But this time he did.

“You and Kraven...” My breath came quicker. “You were grave robbers. A woman, her body—you were going to sell it to a medical school. She had some jewelry, too, you were going to sell. You were fifteen, and your eyes...I think you were going blind.”

His face paled. “You saw my memories.”

I stared at him, then nodded. Silence stretched between us. All I could hear was the sound of my heart hammering in my chest as I slumped back on my heels. The throw rug was my only protection from the cold wood floor.

“That is a very dangerous talent you have, Samantha.” He said it softly, but I’d never heard him say anything with more of a dangerous edge to it. It made goose bumps break out over my arms. “Don’t do that again.”

“I wasn’t trying to do it. It just happened.” I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands until I summoned my courage again. “Who’s Kara?”

When I looked up, my window was open again.

Bishop was gone.

The cold air blew in, chilling me to my bones, even as my hunger began to fade.