A tremor rent through him, and he sighed, his heated breath warming her. “If only you’d let me.” Soft, seeking kisses made their way up her neck. “Tell me.” His lips grazed her jaw. “Tell me you’ll let me in.” Her grasp tightened on his hair as she curled into him and rested her heated cheek against the cool crown of his head. “William.” The tips of his fingers cradled her cheek as he lifted his head and turned her face towards his. Beyond them, the crowd roared with laughter. A woman sang shrilly. Will’s hand found the curve of her lower back, drawing her into him. His lips moved to the corner of her ey.
A bundle of nerves must reside there, for she felt that gentle touch like a stamp pressing into her flesh. “Happiness.” It was a sigh in the dark, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. “Happiness?” Holly tilted her head, trying to see him in the dusky light. “What do you mean?” Only his eyes, silver and gleaming with an internal glow, were visibl.
His words were a slow moving tid.
“You thought I was smirking at you that day we tupped. I was smiling. Because you’d made me happy.” Happiness. The SOS’s disapproval, her fears, their troubles, what did any of it matter if she was without joy? Without him? Moving as though through cotton wool, she reached out and tucked a lock of his hair back from his brow. “Make me happy now,” she whispered. His nostrils flared in a sharp, indrawn breath. And then he kissed her, an open, melting glide of his lips against hers. The world around her faded, and Holly shivered, a small whimper of want escaping her as she leaned into him, licked inside his mouth where he was hot and wet. Instantly, he canted his head and explored her with a quiet ferocity. And it felt so good, so bloody good, that her body went tight with heat. Against the fine linen of her chemise, her ni**les grew hard, aching, and she pressed her br**sts to his chest to relieve the pressur.
He groaned, a low rumble of sound, and slid his tongue in deeper. Her fingers trailed to his throat where his pulse beat hard and fast. She wanted to sink to the floor, let him press into her, take her. A thunderous applause had her jumping, and Will jerking back. In a daze, she stared at him. He stared back, his eyes wide and heated. Then he took a breath and laughed softly, as if at his own folly. But his smile slipped as his gaze turned distant. His light grip upon her turned hard. When he looked back to her, his expression was cold, controlled. “They are here.” Will had lost his head, when he needed most to keep his wits. A mistak.
And one harder to bear when his c**k throbbed and strained against his trousers. Silently he cursed, and when he let Holly go, he tucked himself into what he hoped was a discreet appearanc.
Someone was coming for them. He could feel the presence walking up the theatre stairs, heading this way. That the man was being obvious about his arrival was a courtesy. Will took one last look at Holly, touched her cool cheek, the temptation of her kiss-puffed lips calling to him, and then stood and closed the box drapes. Once done, he pulled Holly up to him. She tucked her hand into his, where it belonged, and he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze before letting go. It felt like he’d lost his own limb. A moment later, a dark shadow moved through the door and reformed before them. Golden eyes shone in the near darkness. Will knew this man. They were colleagues after all. Memories of short exchanges, a brusque word or two between them, returned with clarity. The man had been a shifter when last they’d met. And now he was a shadow crawler just as Will was. Only made of gold. Will wanted to ask him about his alteration. He too had been taken by Amaros, had a clockwork heart forced into him. Did he suffer? Could he control the pain, the madness? It must be so, for the man was completely calm and in control. What had he done differently that Will had failed to understand? Was it the gold heart as opposed to platinum? But gold would have instantly killed Will’s demon body. “Lord Darby.” Holly’s voice, though low, cut through Will’s musings and tugged him back to attention. Darby’s stern gaze moved to her, and Will fought the impulse to pull Holly behind him. “Miss Evernight,” Darby clipped out. “I did not expect you to recognize me.” The accusation laden in that statement was not lost on Will. Nor Holly. Her brow furrowed. “I remember everything.” Darby blinked, his frame going utterly stiff. “Unfortunately, so do I.” Only then did he look at Will. “They’re waiting.” Darby turned to go, but Will stayed put. When the man noticed, he paused, frowning at him over his shoulder. “I’ll have blood passage for Miss Evernight.” It was not a request. Darby’s aristocratic brow lifted. Will had perfected that look when he was in short pants and returned it with measur.
Abruptly Darby turned and held out his wrist, while looking at Holly. “Your hand, Miss Evernight,” he said shortly. Holly glanced at Will, and he gave her a nod of encouragement. “It’s all right.” Though, in truth, a part of him hated seeing her extend her vulnerable and fragile arm towards Darby. But it had to be don.
When Darby clasped her forearm, placing their wrists side by side, Will stepped forward and, using the tip of his claw, quickly punctured their skin. Holly flinched, but Darby simply kept his eyes on her. Blood welled and mixed. Will punctured his wrist then and let his blood drip into theirs. “Miss Evernight,” Darby stated, “you are under my protection and that of William Thorne’s until our meeting is concluded.” A sizzle rent the air as their combined blood bubbled and dissipated upon the pact. With that, Darby let Holly go as though she were diseased. Will understood his resentment; hell, he had lived with the sam.
But he did not like it. Not when they were going to the Alamut. Darby took them to the theatre’s basement. There, amongst the sewage pipes and building supports, a door lay hidden in the brick wall. Another memory surged, and Will knew precisely what brick Darby needed to push to open it. Through the door lay a tunnel to one of their meeting rooms. “More tunnels,” Holly murmured under her breath. Fighting a smile, Will touched the small of her back to urge her forward. The tips of his fingers burned with the need to hold on to her. But he let his hand fall. Standing in a semicircle within the barren stone chamber deep beneath London, ten men waited for them. Torchlight flickered over their still forms. They wore hooded cloaks to hide their faces, but Will felt their stares. With the inclusion of he and Darby, there were twelve men. Always twelv.
Never more when having a formal meeting. Which meant they hadn’t yet excommunicated Will. Though he did not know the outcome of this meeting, and though he’d sacrifice himself to protect Holly, the sight of the men eased something within him. This was his world. “Thorne.” They spoke as on.
Will extended his arm and then brought it up to his face as though he held a sword before him. With practiced ease, he bowed. “Alamut.” At his side, Holly stood rigid and watchful, and Will sensed the attention of the room shifting to her. He brought it back to him. “I request that the contract upon Holly Evernight be voided. I am willing to pay both for it and for reparations.” Darby’s stony expression did not alter. “We do not go back on our word.” Yes, Will had rather feared that answer. For their word was their bond. “However”—a small, evil smile formed on Darby’s lips—“there are no rules against the contractor withdrawing his request. With,” Darby added, “reparations for our trouble.” Trepidation lay heavy in Will’s gut. “Right, then. Give me a name.” A grumble went through the room. Names were never revealed. A member was contacted. And that member would be in charge of disposal or, if it was his wish, assigning another man onto the job. As Darby spoke for the group now, he must be the one responsible for Holly’s contract. And yet he’d obviously sent Will to do the deed. After all the others had failed. Will did not feel an ounce of regret for his fallen comrades. Their world held no room for tender emotions. “What I do not understand,” Darby said, “is why you seek to protect Miss Evernight.” “That is my business.” “Is it?” Darby glanced about as if gauging the others’ level of disbelief. A futile exercise as the group did not display emotion. Golden eyes met Will’s. Darby shrugged. “I suppose it is. Though I cannot say I understand.” “A name.” Darby’s gaze bore into his. “William Thorne.” Silence was a slap. Will flinched, not understanding, yet filled with a sick, twisted dread. “Given that you started this,” Darby went on, “wasted our time, men, and resources, reparations will be high.” A high-pitched ringing sounded in Will’s ears. He’d requested the contract on Holly? His skin grew too tight. He couldn’t turn to the woman at his sid.
He’d be ill if he looked upon her face just now. “You are remembering now, aren’t you?” Darby said softly. “How you escaped Jack Talent’s house to find m.
To demand that Holly Evernight be destroyed for what she’d done to you.” Darby’s gaze flicked up to Holly, who stood just behind Will. “And to me.” He’d killed a woman then as well. A blood whore provided for him. Drank her dry before putting down the blunt to end Evernight. He’d been so angry then. Full of rage and reveng.
He’d sought the only recourse he could. To have them kill her. His brothers in death. “You did not send me to kill Evernight,” Will said to Darby, his heart chugging painfully. “Nor alter my memories?” The man’s golden brows wrinkled. “Why would I? You’d paid your fellow Alamut to do the job.” He gave Will a reproachful look. “And what do you do in exchange for our help? Defend the bloody woman.” He shook his head as if disgusted. “You must know you are no longer fit to be one of us.” “Yes.” Will knew what was coming. He had regrets. Things that he still wished to do. But it did not matter in the greater scheme of things. Holly would be saf.
And his pain would end; there was that. “Jack Talent has access to my funds. Tell him I went to visit Nicky, and he’ll give you what you need.” Nicky had been Jack and Will’s childhood friend, dead eleven years now. Would Jack mourn Will? Will hated that he hoped so. That he wanted someone to remember him. Though Holly had not moved nor said a word in this time, she sucked in an audible breath then, as if she realized what Will was saying and what would soon occur. As much as Will wanted to turn to her, tell her what she meant to him, he would not endanger her by showing tender sentiment her.
Darby stepped forward, his expression smooth as paper. “You’re ready, then?” Will tugged his collar, exposing his neck. “Ay.
Let it be done.” “Stop!” Holly grabbed hold of his elbow, and her dark eyes were wild with panic. “Do you mean to let them kill you? Is that what all this double talk is about?” “Holly,” Will began. “Your interference is not appreciated, Miss Evernight,” Darby cut in. “Neither is yours,” Holly snapped back, before looking up at Will. “Tell me that is not what I am hearing.” Gently, he touched her arm. If he held her closer, he feared he wouldn’t be able to let go. “I cannot.” Darby’s bored tone cut between them again. “Let us proceed.” “Do not try my patience,” Holly growled at him. Darby laughed. “My dear woman, you’d take on a room full of trained assassins just so that you can uselessly plead for your lover? How very foolish of you.” “I’ve killed enough of your lot before,” Holly said. “I don’t see how this would differ.” Will inwardly cursed, and another ripple of discontent went through the men in the room. Darby’s eyes were cold when he spok.
“Yes, but you do not have your little gadgets to save you now.” Holly’s stubborn chin lifted a touch. “It is a mistake to assume I need them.” Enough. Will pushed past her. “Stop bickering with the woman, Darby, and do your duty.” “Will!” Holly moved to grab him but two men stepped in and held her back. That they were firm but not rough was the only thing stopping Will from attacking. As it was, his heart ached. “Leave off, Evernight,” he forced himself to say before turning his back on her. “This is utterly ridiculous, bloody stupid male, posturing…” “Your jacket,” Darby said, above Holly’s ribald protests. Will removed it. His knees only shook a little as he knelt before Darby. “You cannot do this,” Holly shouted. “I won’t be held responsible—” Her protests cut off as someone put a hand over her mouth. Will’s body shook. He wanted to go to her. Comfort her. But stayed the cours.
A member grabbed hold of a torch and brought it over. Darby grabbed hold of Will’s arm and wrenched his sleeve back, exposing the tattoo of the Alamut dagger. Stoic and calm, Darby thrust his own hand into the torch fir.
It glowed, molten gold. When his nostrils flared and his hand glowed a brilliant yellow, he removed it from the flames and grasped Will’s arm. Agony exploded at the point of contact. Will ground his teeth, his fangs dropping low and drawing blood. The heated gold of Darby’s hand, poisonous to Will, ate at his flesh, burning it up in a way simple fire could not. The foul stench of burning demon flesh invaded his nostrils and had him gagging. A sweat broke over him as he panted and hissed through the pain. And then Darby’s hand was gon.
But the pain remained. Trembling, Will swallowed hard and found his voic.
“The other one.” His Nex tattoo. “Take it as well.” He’d go to his creator without the taint of that mark upon him. Darby did not blink. “Very well.” Again he heated his hand in the flam.
The second burn was wors.
Will shivered, pain a pickaxe to his skin, a scrape over his bones. He fell forward as Darby released him. Head bent and neck exposed, Will cradled his ruined arms to his chest and waited for the deathblow. Cool air caressed his skin. “Get up,” Darby said. “And get out.”