“Sometimes, but Christian has made me see that I can be anything I want to be, and it’s pointless trying to hide what you are. You can maybe hide from other people but never yourself. Okay, your half hour’s up. One last question.”
Roz thought for a moment. “What else is there out there?”
“Everything. Everything you’ve ever heard of. All the creatures of your nightmares. You haven’t met Carl yet—he’s a werewolf.” She grinned at Roz’s no doubt stunned expression. “And on that note, I’ll leave you to sleep.”
She rose to her feet. Roz still had a thousand questions, but she didn’t try and stop her. Exhaustion was tugging at her mind. She followed Tara out into the hallway and waited while the elevator came. As she stepped inside, Tara turned to her.
“In answer to your question earlier: it’s fantastic being married to a vampire. You should try it sometime.”
“Ha. Never going to happen.”
She waited until the door closed then leaned her forehead against the cool metal as an image of Piers flashed through her mind. The taste of him flooded her senses, and she forced the image away.
Bed.
Maria was still on the sofa. She opened her mouth, but Roz held up a hand to silence her. “I’m going to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Maria closed her mouth and nodded.
But as she snuggled down in the wonderfully comfortable bed, her head on the cool cotton pillows, and closed her eyes, it wasn’t Piers she saw in her mind, but Jack. And he was furious. He was back at his house; she recognized the room. He’d come for his Key and it was gone. Rage filled him. But beneath the rage, she could sense his underlying fear.
He’d failed his mistress and she would not be pleased. She would devour him and spit out the pieces.
Chapter Eleven
The vision kept her wide-awake.
Roz lay, staring out at the night sky through the open curtains. She was exhausted, but sleep eluded her, and she was restless, unable to settle. Finally, she gave up trying and dragged herself out of bed. A short walk in the open air and she might be able to sleep.
Except, what was she supposed to wear? No way was she getting that hated habit out of the bin a third time.
The robe she’d worn the previous night was thrown over one of the chairs, and she pulled that on. But she needed clothes; she would have to sort that out tomorrow. They’d said she wasn’t a prisoner, so maybe she could go shopping. But in what?
There was no sound from Sister Maria’s room as Roz stumbled through into the lounge. But she did find a suitcase sitting by her bedroom door. Her suitcase. Anger flashed through her—she hated the idea of someone pawing through her things. But the anger didn’t last long. She had clothes. Proper clothes. After dragging the case into the bedroom, she opened it and tipped the contents onto the bed.
She found jeans, panties and a tank top, and got dressed. The tank top revealed the sigil, but they had already seen it so that was no problem. She felt almost human by the time she was finished, and she grinned at herself in the mirror. Almost human was as close as she was going to get.
…
Graham was at the reception desk when the elevator opened—though it wasn’t Graham who brought the scowl to her face. Piers lounged against the wall, next to the elevators, arms folded across his chest, a slight smile curving his lips.
“Tell me this is a coincidence,” she muttered. His smile broadened, and she glanced down at herself. “You haven’t got me bugged, have you?”
His lips twitched. “Now there’s an idea. Actually, I told Graham to monitor the elevator from the penthouse.” He pushed himself up from the wall. “Going somewhere?” he asked.
She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. “I need some fresh air. I feel like I’ve been cooped up in a cell all day.” She pursed her lips. “Hey, guess what—I have been cooped up in a cell all day.”
Piers laughed. “I could use some fresh air myself.”
She needed to ease the tension in her brain, not increase it, and he was hardly relaxing company. “I won’t go anywhere.” She put her hand on her chest. “Nun’s honor.”
He laughed again. He had a nice laugh. Sexy as hell. The sound sent little frissons skittering down her spine. Maybe if he could refrain from talking and just give the odd sexy laugh, she might manage to put up with him. “Okay, you may come with me, but only on the condition that you don’t ask any more questions. Because I won’t answer.”
He considered her briefly. “Okay. It’s a deal.”
She looked him over; he was wearing his long, leather trench coat. “You know, it’s July. You probably don’t need the coat.”
He held it open to reveal a positive arsenal of weapons underneath. She counted at least three guns. Would he give one of them to her if she asked nicely?
“Okay, point made. But do you actually need all those weapons?”
“Yes. There might be demons out there.”
“Another good point. Right, let’s move it.”
He led her out of the main doors and paused for a moment. “Anywhere you’d like to go?”
“To the river. I love the river.”
She cast him a sideways glance as they strolled along toward the embankment. “So if you see a demon, you shoot it?”
“Mostly.”
“Seems a little harsh.”
“Most of them are low grade demons. It’s actually easier for the less powerful to slip through the gaps between worlds. They know the rules, they choose to break them, and they take the consequences. And while they have little power, they do have an enormous ability to cause havoc. And most have some exceedingly anti-social habits.”
“Like what?”
“You really don’t know much, do you?”
“Actually, I know a lot. I know how to fly a plane and sail a boat. I can speak thirty seven languages, I’m a certified diver, I’ve—”
He held up a hand. “Okay, I was wrong. But you know nothing about our world.”
“So teach me.”
“Honey, there are so many things I’d like to teach you, but the anti-social habits of lesser demons is pretty low down on the list.”
She ignored the innuendo. “Okay, tell me about the fae instead.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“That won’t take long. The fae can be summed up in two words…they’re assholes.”
“Come on, tell me. Pretty please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely…”
He talked in his low, rich voice of times long past, before the Shadow Accords. He described the beauty of the Faelands, the sweet taste of fae blood, the wars that had nearly torn the Earth apart.
She realized she could listen to him forever. His words mesmerized her as his mind powers had not. They reached the river and strolled along the embankment, breathing in the scents and watching the lights glint on the oily black water. Occasionally, they would pass a homeless person, curled up sleeping. When they passed one man
