Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers)

Chapter 30



There was a demon waiting for me in my bedroom.

He reclined on my bed with his arms folded behind his head.

I froze in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?”

“Rough night, huh?” Kraven said.

“Get out of my bed.”

He grinned. “I like how that sounds. Your bed. Me in it.”

“I swear, Kraven. Don’t mess with me right now.”

He sat up and glanced around at the room. “It’s a bit frillier and pinker than I pictured for you, but not bad. I could get used to this.”

He was messing with me. I decided not to feed the troll by making any more demands or stomping my feet like a child. Instead, I stood there with my hands on my hips, glaring at him.

“Ouch. I can feel that all the way over here.” He swung his legs over the side of my bed and stood up. “Saw my little brother take off a minute ago. No sleepovers planned with your beloved? Sad, gray-girl. Very sad. Oh, wait, you’re not a gray anymore, are you? You went through stasis, though. I know that. I saw it with my own eyes. You were in bad shape. And then—boom—you’re all better.”

I spread my hands, trying my best to ignore his taunts about Bishop. “I died. I came back.”

He studied me carefully. “As what, exactly?”

“As myself. Nothing else. I feel fine.”

“Not evil?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Evil can be fun.” He moved closer to me, cocking his head as he watched me. It made me extremely uneasy about being alone with him.

I slid my hand down my right thigh so I could feel the outline of my dagger. “Don’t even think about trying to hurt me.”

He let out a quick laugh, one of surprise. “You really think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

“You’re right. You don’t.”

“It’s been a rough night, Kraven. I want you to leave.”

“We lost two angels tonight. Zach—I actually liked that guy.” His expression darkened. “He didn’t give me any problems. Shouldn’t have died. Then little Miss Secret Mission. She should have told us the whole truth from day one.”

“Why? Would you have helped save her?”

He didn’t reply to that. “Roth is MIA.”

“He liked her. A lot. They were falling for each other.”

“Roth’s a dick. You really think he’s capable of feeling anything for anyone?”

“I do.” I said it with certainty. I’d seen the look in his eyes when she’d been wrenched out of his arms. There was no doubt in my mind that his feelings toward her were completely real.

“And you think my brother feels the same way toward you?”

I glared at him. “It bothers you that I like him.”

“Like? Not love? Was it his love that brought you back from death?” He said it mockingly. “Do you two have a Romeo and Juliet thing going on? The deadly angel-boy falls for the hybrid chick who, in another life, he would’ve been commanded to kill. Adorable, right?”

I looked into his amber eyes, but couldn’t break through the walls he had up. Frankly, I wasn’t in the mood for a glimpse at his tortured mind tonight. Despite the ability he had to press my buttons, knowing what I did about him made my heart hurt. “I’m sorry for the pain you feel when it comes to him.”

His flinch would have been barely noticeable if I hadn’t been looking for it. “I feel nothing for him.”

“Wrong. You hate him for what he did because you once loved him more than anyone else.” I let out a shaky sigh. “You have a right to feel that way.”

His jaw tightened. “Permission from you to hate my brother. Gee, I feel all tingly inside.”

“You trusted him and he betrayed you in the worst way possible. I don’t know what you’ve been through in however many years it’s been since you died—”

“Was killed,” he corrected me.

“Tonight I saw another one of Bishop’s memories. His execution.” I swallowed hard. “I heard his thoughts. I saw what he saw—I felt what he felt. He was broken by what he’d done to you. And he paid the price for it. He missed you. You were the only one he wanted forgiveness from.”

That snarky edge faded from his gaze. “Really.”

I nodded.

The remainder of his humorous mask fell away. “You can tell me whatever you want—whatever you think you saw. Doesn’t change a damn thing. And it doesn’t make it true.”

“You tried to save him twice tonight. I think down deep you still care about him.”

“Is that what you think?” He moved closer and backed me up against the wall. I looked up at him, commanding myself not to show fear as his eyes began to glow red.

I nodded again.

I waited for him to say something else on the subject, but instead, he twisted a long piece of my hair around his finger. “So you’re a nexus.” His lips curved. “I know you won’t admit to it in so many words. It’s enough that I know it’s true.”

I pushed his hand away from me. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Wrong. I know enough. I know in the three kisses we shared that you weren’t only kissing me because you had to. You liked it, too.”

My cheeks heated. “You’re dreaming.”

“And now you can kiss Bishop again without being in danger of sucking both his soul and his life out of him. Right?”

This was ridiculous. I was giving him way too much time to try to manipulate me. “Get to your point, Kraven. I know you have one. I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Only if you’re delusional.”

His smile grew and his eyes went back to their usual amber shade. “Sweetness, you can deny it all you want, but you do feel something for me. I know it.”

“You’re right, James.” I said his real name to see if it would get a reaction. It did. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t correct me this time. I slid my hands slowly up his chest and he froze, his brows drawing together. I placed my hands on either side of his face. “I do feel something for you.”

His lips curved to the side. “I knew it.”

I studied his handsome face, that glimmer of victory already in his eyes that I was about to admit to something that would cause Bishop pain. “I feel pity for you.”

That cockiness vanished in a heartbeat and he stepped back from me so fast it was as if I’d been set on fire.

“Save the pity for someone else,” he said, his voice now cold. “Besides, you can lie to yourself if you want to, but I know the truth. I see it in your eyes.”

“Yeah, right. You are delusional. Rinse and repeat. All you want to do with me is make Bishop jealous. I read your mind, remember? I saw that darkness in there. That vengeance you’re jonesing for. But it’s not going to happen.”

“Whatever you say, sweetness.” He looked away, toward my window, as if shielding his expression from me long enough to gather his smart-ass mask back up. “My brother gave you a gift—that little dagger of yours. Nice and shiny. I have something shiny to give you, too. That’s why I came here tonight.”

I didn’t ask what it was. I just stood there waiting, my fists clenched at my sides.

“A name,” he said quietly, that glint of mischievousness returning to his face. “Adam Drake. And a year. 1878.”

My heart started to pound harder. “Who is that?”

“Use that little computer of yours.” He nodded at the laptop on my bedside table. “Do a little digging. You might find some interesting details.”

I turned away from him, my head swimming. When I looked back again, Kraven was gone.

Immediately, after closing the window, I went to my laptop. I almost decided to forget the whole thing and put what he’d said out of my mind forever. But then, with shaking hands, and a slight hesitation, I went ahead and searched the name and date—Adam Drake 1878.

It got a couple direct hits. And a picture.

Adam Drake...was Bishop.

It was Bishop’s real name, the name he wouldn’t tell me no matter how many times I’d asked.

My hands trembled as I clicked through to an obscure web article and I read it quickly, my stomach tying itself into knots.

Adam Drake was eighteen years old when he was hanged in New York in 1878. He was in a group of grave robbers and body snatchers who worked for Kara Drake. His mother.

Kara was his mother. Kraven’s mother, too.

Adam had killed his brother, James, nineteen years of age.

And he’d also killed twenty-five other people. With a dagger.

James had been his first victim.

These pieces of Bishop’s puzzle clicked into place and left me stunned and sickened as I stared at the grainy black-and-white photo.

Bishop had been a serial killer.

And I’d just freely given him both my heart and soul.