“Why’s that?”
“Well, vamps can control weres, because they start out as human, and I guess the weres don’t like that. But Carl’s pretty high up in the werewolf hierarchy, and I doubt even Christian could compel him to do something he didn’t want to do.”
“So why does he work for him?”
“It’s a good job, pays well, and he gets to play with guns.”
…
Tara felt the moment Christian awoke, like a light flicking on in her brain.
Minutes later, he strode into the penthouse. He hadn’t bothered to dress, just pulled on a pair of jeans, and she stared at him, unable to look away. Then she jumped to her feet, her book clattering to the floor, and ran to him.
He didn’t speak, just gathered her in his arms and kissed her. She melted against him, her fingers digging into the bare satin skin of his back. After a few minutes, he raised his head.
“You smell of werewolf,” he growled.
“I had a shooting lesson with Carl.”
His eyes narrowed. “How did it go?”
“I wasn’t very good.”
“And did he behave himself?”
Heat spread across her cheeks. “Of course.”
Christian smiled. “There’s no of course about it. Tell him, if he touches you again, I’ll rip his throat out.”
“I’m not going to tell him that. He was actually very kind.”
A look of complete disbelief flashed across his features. “He’s a werewolf. They don’t do ‘kind.’ Now come here.”
Tara went into his arms and he kissed her again. After long minutes, he put her from him and stepped back.
“I have to go out. Piers arranged another meeting with the Walker. I’m going to find out what I can about your mother.”
“I want to come.”
He shook his head. “You’re not going to go anywhere near the fae, especially not the Walker. He’s an assassin and he wants you dead. Look, this is our best bet to find out what happened. I’m also hoping we can come to some sort of arrangement with the fae—get them off your back for good. You’d be free.”
“Well, free of the fae, just the demons to cope with.” She forced a smile. “What it is to be popular.”
She didn’t want him to go—it was impossible to shake the worry that nagged her as he got ready to leave. She followed him into the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed as he pulled clothes from the drawer and finished dressing.
When he was done, he came and sat beside her, picked up her hand, and kissed her fingers. “If you ever need someone and I’m not around, go to Carl. He’s a good guy.”
“I don’t want to go to Carl, and why won’t you be around?”
“It’s unlikely, but just in case. I shouldn’t be too long. Wait for me here.”
He kissed her lips then stood and left the room.
Tara stared after him, biting her lip, and fighting the urge to call him back. For some reason, it felt like he was saying goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A fierce desire to turn around almost stopped Christian in his tracks. His fists clenched at his side as he fought the need to go back to her, make love to her one last time.
All through the long day without her, he’d gone over and over the facts, searching for a way to keep Tara safe. He’d failed his wife and daughters. He could not fail Tara.
Asmodai was after him, and while the demon hid in the Abyss sending a limitless supply of minions to perform his filthy work, there was little Christian could do to stop him. Images of Chloe’s mutilated body haunted his mind. He couldn’t let that happen to Tara. He had to find a way to stop Asmodai.
Then there were the fae. As things stood, they would hunt down and kill Tara on sight. Christian had come up with a deal to offer the Walker. If the fae agreed, there was a high chance Christian would never see her again. He could find no way around that, but Tara would have a chance at that normal life she craved. A normal life without him.
He went straight to the weapons room and kitted out, pulled a long, black leather trench coat over it all, and went up to meet Piers, who was already waiting in reception.
“Hmm,” Piers said, as Christian approached, “you smell of your little human. Have you marked her yet?”
“No.”
Graham sat behind the desk. But Christian didn’t speak to him. If things went badly tonight then in all likelihood Graham would die. The mark would ensure that. What was there to say to him?
He led Piers out into the night. Only when they reached the brightly lit street did he turn to the other man.
“So,” he asked, “did you organize it?”
Piers nodded. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“It’s about Tara.”
“Your human? What’s she got to do with the Walker?”
“Well the problem is, she’s not actually human.”
Piers raised an eyebrow. “She’s not?”
“No. That’s what the talisman does. It contains a spell which hides her true nature.”
“And that is?”
“She’s half-fae.”
“Are you kidding me?”