And as he leaned forward again, my eyes closed and my hands gripped the top of the dresser, enthralled by the feeling of promised rapture plinking through me.
His breath brushed my neck, and I let my head loll, almost inviting him. I knew how it would feel, I knew the rush of sensation that would fill me, the utter belonging, the promise. “Give me this,” he whispered, and I licked my lips, knowing I had a master of the blood arts standing before me.
“No,” I whispered, and I felt him smile at my mild denial, thinking it wouldn’t hold. “You touch me, and you die,” I promised, eyes closed. “Right here.”
“I’m not touching you.” His words were hardly there, and my knees almost buckled. “But I could. I could draw you to the summit.” His incoming breath was like a promise. “Bring you half a step from death—to life.”
I held my breath as he blew, warm on me to waken my scar.
My grip on the dresser behind me tightened at the tingling wash, and my eyes opened. It was almost a shock to see him there, his pupil-black eyes holding a promised journey to somewhere Kisten never dared take me. He would pull upon every strand of desire in me, fulfilling them all.
“You know us.” Pike’s eyes closed, but it made him more dangerous, not less.
“I know you,” I agreed. My pulse was fast, and my grip on the dresser became white-knuckled.
“You could be everything with me,” he whispered, and tingles raced to my groin, his breath heavy on my hidden scar. “I could give everything to you. Everything . . .”
I uncramped my hand, fingers shaking as I went to push him away, but as my palm met his chest . . . I found I did not. “I would be nothing,” I said, almost pained by what he offered. “I’ve heard this lie before.”
Pike stepped back. I took a breath as my hand lost contact with him, bringing the scent of incense deep into me—just as he planned. “You lived it,” he said, his gaze tracing my neck as he took my elbows and drew me a faltering step to the center of the room. “Live it again, but this time you will not be bound to an ill-appreciated scion playing craps while the master plots betrayal. Keep Constance fed, and she doesn’t look past her blood parties. Together you and I could keep Cincinnati safe under her, you with the rabble, me with the I.S.”
Again I breathed deep, searching the air for lies but only finding truth in his black eyes, feeling his earnest belief in his light touch. This was not a trick, but it would kill who I was nevertheless. I loved Trent, and what Pike offered was power and sensation. If I said yes, I would lose everything.
And so I stood before him, feeling his promise light through me like cold fire. “I will not walk this path again,” I said, gut twisting. I would not take it because there was no love to make it right.
“If you won’t walk it, I’ll carry you.”
His hand touched my jaw. A welling of line energy rose to swamp him, and I caught it back, enjoying the tingles bringing me alive. “You . . . will not,” I whispered, eyes closing. “It is a lie without love.”
His hand fell away, and my eyes opened, seeing his lips twisted in a bitter understanding. “There is never love,” Pike said, a dangerous glint of fang making me lock my knees. It would feel so good to have them cleanly slice into me, filling me with sensation. “It’s give-and-take, but mostly take. Take what I offer, Rachel. Give in to her. We can keep Cincinnati together while Constance remains ignorant.”
But I knew the lie within the truth, and I shook my head. “Sometimes, there is love,” I said, though he’d never believe it. “I might do this for love, but not for anything less.”
Pike dropped back a step, the ardor falling from him. “Then I am sorry,” he said with true regret. “You will have to die.”
He moved. My breath came fast, but I was already dodging his lunge or I never would have kept out of his reach. “Stabils,” I whispered as he shifted direction and one grasping hand touched me. I gasped as the line I held blossomed through me, almost buckling my knees as it rolled through my vampire-incense-addled state. Damn, I thought as it raced from my core and was gone, leaving a soft hum of promised ecstasy to slowly fade.
Pike’s eyes widened as the immobilization curse hit him, and then he dropped, groaning as he struck the box under the bell and collapsed to an uncomfortable sprawl. “You stupid fool of a vampire,” he wheezed, cursing himself as I stared down at him, shocked at how fast it had happened. One second I’d been nearly enthralled, and the next, he was on the floor. “You stupid damn fool!”
“Rachel?” a gravelly voice ground out at the window, and I turned, pulse fast, to see Etude’s craggy face in the screenless window.
I trembled as I stood over Pike, the last promised sensation pulsing to nothing within me. My head dropped to the vampire shuddering to a frozen stillness at my feet, unable to move, apart from his voice and what would keep him alive. Slowly my fisted hands opened. I’d made little indents in my palms from my nails, and I rubbed them out. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Mmmm, huh?” the old gargoyle said, then settled where he could see into the room, and fell asleep again.
Pike was still swearing at himself as I leaned over him, arms wrapped around my middle. Memories of Kisten were thick, and they hurt. “I told you I wouldn’t be bespelled,” I said, voice low, and he struggled to find me with his eyes. “You’re good. Good enough to make me break my promise on a bad day. But I know what you offer, and I know where it leads, and I’m not going there. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone.” Angry at myself, I rose from my crouch over him. “And not to become Constance’s puppet. Got it?”
“Sure,” Pike rasped, sounding pained. No doubt, seeing as his leg was uncomfortably pinned under him.
But as I stood over him, my anger shifted to worry. I couldn’t leave him frozen here when we all went to get the Brimstone. The only reason Constance was leaving me alone was because she was waiting for Pike to kill me. And as I listened to his increasingly labored breathing, I realized there was something here I could use.
“Jenks!” I shouted, and from outside, Etude sighed and dropped deeper into slumber.
The pixy darted in, sword bared, but he snickered when he saw Pike on the floor. “Told you,” he said as he dropped down to poke his nose with his sword point. “You can’t bespell her.”
I felt myself flush, embarrassed.
“I should have,” Pike wheezed, and, finding an ounce of compassion, I wedged a toe under him and flipped him over. “You have caps,” he said as his eyes found mine. “You’ve read the book. You have a binding scar. You know us.”
He meant “know us” as in the carnal sense, and I warmed even more. “That’s just it, Pike,” I said, hands on my hips as I tried to decide what to do. “I know you. I know you better than you know yourselves. Been there. Done that. Got smart.”