Dead?

Fear spiked.

The sorcerer raised his hand again, a vengeful gleam in his eyes. The magic that sparked around his palm was faint. Was he recharging?

I didn’t know much about magic, but I prayed that was true. I couldn’t survive the kind of blast that had hit the Devil.

I rushed the sorcerer, leaping over the Devil and hurtling down the stairs like a train. As I plowed into him, he crashed onto his back, breaking my fall with his body. Struggling to rise, he struck me with his palm, and pain blossomed as his magic slammed into me. My vision blackened, and my organs trembled in shock.

Blindly, I raised my fist and punched him on the chin. His head snapped to the side, and I blinked, my vision returning. I’d taken a partially charged blast, and it had almost wiped me out.

If he fully recharged, I’d be dead.

The sorcerer beneath me seemed dazed. I hit him again and he slumped, unconscious.

Heart pounding, I scrambled off him and up the stairs, crouching by the Devil’s prone form. I gripped his big shoulders and shook them. “Wake up, Grey! Wake up!”

His eyes fluttered open, though his gaze seemed blurred. “You called me Grey.”

“I…did.” He’d taken a hit for me, and that had changed how I thought of him.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The sorcerer struck you with green magic. I don’t know what kind of spell it was, but it looked bad.”

“Killing blow.” He groaned. Pushing himself upright, he staggered to his feet.

I joined him. Wrapping my arm around his waist, I helped him up the stairs. He gained strength with every step, but I could tell that the attack had taken a lot out of him.

“We’re nearly there,” I said, panting from the climb.

“You can sense it?”

“Wishful thinking.” I pushed harder, climbing onward.

Finally, we reached the roof. The cold evening wind whipped across my cheeks as I searched for the stairs we’d taken before. The secret stairwell was located on the exterior of the building, hidden within the wall.

“There.”

Grey stumbled forward, and I hurried to his side, offering my support to him. We found the secret stairwell and started down. At one point, we lost our footing and nearly rolled to the bottom. It almost would have been a relief. I’d never felt so weak and exhausted.

Finally, we reached the top of the wall that surrounded the city and tottered out.

Grey dug into his pocket and pulled out a transport charm, but he didn’t throw it.

“Come on!” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Need to get farther from their tower. A spell prevents us from transporting.”

Together, we weaved along the wall and away from the tower. Suddenly, shouts sounded above us, and I looked up. Silhouetted against the moonlight, three sorcerers stood on the roof.

“Will they attack?” I asked.

“Probably not outside of their tower.”

A blast of yellow magic hurtled down at us.

With the last of his strength, Grey shoved me aside and lunged in the opposite direction. The force of his blow sent me skidding out of harm’s way as the blast plowed into the stone. The shock waves hit Grey, slamming him the wall.

“Those bastards.” He heaved himself upright and lurched toward me. “They shouldn’t be attacking outside their tower.”

He held out his hand, and I took it. Quick as a snake, he hurled the transport charm to the ground. Silver smoke poofed upward, and we leapt inside.

The ether sucked us in and spun us around, spitting us out in front of his tower. He swayed, his strength flagging. The bouncers at the door hurried over, worry on their faces.

“What’d you do to him?” growled the one on the left. A lion shifter, from the look of his wild golden hair.

“Not…her fault.” Grey went to his knees.

“The sorcerers hit him with something.” I knelt beside Grey, worry twisting in my chest.

“Come on, boss.” The lion shifter gripped Grey and hoisted him upright, nearly dragging him toward the door. “We’ll get you the healer.”

The other shifter opened the door for them, and I raced after them. Miranda darted from behind the desk and hurried up to Grey.

“What happened?” she asked, patting Grey’s cheeks to rouse him.

“The sorcerers hit him with a huge blast of green and gold light,” I said.

She gave me a fierce look. “A killing blow? You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Bastards. We’ll have their heads for this. That’s deadly magic.” She looked at the guard who wasn’t supporting Grey’s big frame. “Fetch the healer. Immediately.”

“Will he be okay?” I demanded.

“I don’t know. If he weren’t so strong, he’d be dead already.”

“His immortality won’t help him?”

“It makes him stronger, but he’s not immune to trauma or powerful magic.” She looked at the lion shifter who was holding Grey upright. “Take him to his quarters.”

“Aye.” The shifter helped Grey along, who stubbornly stayed on his feet.

When I started to follow, Miranda glared at me. “I’m coming,” I insisted, my voice firm, and she nodded in assent.

We wound through the halls, rising several stories and reached a part of the tower that was new to me. Slowly, Grey raised his hand and pressed it to the huge wooden door. Magic sparked, and the door opened.

The lion shifter dragged him in. Miranda and I trailed after them, walking into a beautiful, though austere, living room with massive windows overlooking a moonlit sea. Waves crashed on the rocky shore.

I blinked in surprise. This couldn’t be real. Not in London.

But it looked real.

“Magic,” Miranda said, catching my shock.

We entered another room, a massive sleeping chamber decorated in the same spartan style. A huge window overlooked snow-covered mountains gleaming in the moonlight. Again, the scene was so real that I could swear I smelled the icy snow through the glass.

They helped Grey to the bed, and the vampire lay on it with a groan.

“What did the magic do to him?” I stared, gazing worriedly at him.

“Pulverized his organs.” Miranda sounded pissed. “Watch over him. I’m going to go help find the healer.”

Both she and the bouncer moved toward the door.

“Wait!” I followed them with my gaze. “Will he die?”

Miranda’s jaw tightened, and she said nothing.

Yes.

That was what her silence meant. Yes.

I went to Grey and sat on the bed beside him. He lay on the dark sheets, his skin pale and cold. I reached for his hand, gripping tightly. My feelings were jumbled and confused.

He’d saved me.

He’d lied to me.

He might die.

“Grey.” I squeezed his hand. “Wake up, Grey. You’re fine.”

The words were stupid. He clearly wasn’t fine.

“Why did you push me out of the way?”

He said nothing, but the corner of his mouth perked up the tiniest little bit. I rested my hand on his heart, feeling the slow, soft thud. It was so weak.

Fear chilled my skin.

“Grey, you have to hold on.”

But he wouldn’t be able to. I could feel it even now, in the slowing of his heart. How long would it take Miranda to find the healer?

Not in time.

The terrifying thought blasted through me. She wouldn’t find the healer in time. He would die.

Grief pierced my soul. I didn’t want him to die. I didn’t know what he meant to me or how I really felt, but I knew I didn’t want him to die.

The memory of his bite at Temple Church flashed in my mind. My blood had healed him then. It could heal him now.

It was worth a try.

My heart pounding violently, I leaned over him and pressed my neck to his mouth. “Drink, Grey.”

He didn’t move.

Fear pulsed through me.

I climbed on top of him, straddling his hard body so that my neck was better aligned with his mouth. I gripped his hair in one hand, lifted his head, and pressed his lips to my neck. “Bite me.”

A low groan tore from his throat, and his lips parted. Despite their chill, they were soft and smooth against my skin. When his tongue swiped against my skin, heat blazed in its wake.

I shuddered, unable to help myself.

Grey’s fangs sank into my flesh, slowly and precisely. Pleasure exploded through me, and every muscle in my body seemed to clench.

When he began to draw on my blood, I moaned.

He mirrored the noise, a groan escaping his throat. His strong hands gripped me, one at my waist and one at my head, holding me pinned against him. I felt like prey, but…

I liked it.

Ecstasy streaked through me as he fed, his tongue laving and soothing the faint burn of his bite. I moved against him, craving friction and heat.

As he drank, his strength returned. I could feel it in his grip, in the warmth of his skin and the pounding of his pulse. He rolled me over and pressed me down into the mattress with his weight.

Fear flared, briefly, but it gave my desire an edge. I reached up and sank my hands into his hair, clamping my legs around his waist. He moved against me, thrusting in a rhythm that made pleasure coil deep within me.

It tightened, threatening to take me over the edge.

Instead, a vision flashed in my mind: Grey, drinking me to the death.

Not now, but in the future. Sometime soon. Fear chased away the heat.

The bite that brought such pleasure would also bring my end.

13

Grey

The world had become a cocoon of lavender and heat. My head spun as Carrow’s blood spilled over my tongue, hot and delicious.

She was pinned beneath me on the bed, writhing as her thighs gripped my hips. The heat and softness of her was such an incredible contrast to the cold austerity of my life.

I wanted to sink into her. To stay here forever.

I drew more deeply on her neck, grinding myself against her, wanting more of her soft whimpers in my ears.