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"All right, Reaper," I say as I lay a hand to the side of his face. There’s a measure of relief in his eyes before he closes them and leans his warm skin into my palm. "I promise."
When Ashen opens his eyes again, the loss and longing are still there, but so is hope. He bends his head and presses his lips to mine as his hand slides beneath my shirt to drift across my back. He must taste the blood that lingers on my tongue and the residue of honeyed venom on my teeth, just as I taste smoke and mint and the heat of spiced liquor on his. And maybe I was wrong about promises being only paid in blood. This kiss feels like a promise. Every caress of our lips, every sweep of our tongues, every ragged breath. The way Ashen's palm heats my back as he pulls me closer. It feels like a promise that is paid with love.
When the kiss fades away, Ashen rests his head on my shoulder, his lips close to my ear. "Be careful," he whispers.
"You first," I whisper back.
Ashen pulls away and smiles, placing one last kiss to my cheekbone before he lets go. Fire ripples to life across his blade. We leave the room without another word. When we pass the threshold I give a final glance to the bloodless body on the floor and then I close the door behind me.
We continue down the corridor, passing more empty offices and staff rooms. We see no one, hear no one. We stop at a thick steel door at the end of the hallway and listen, but nothing comes from the other side. Ashen looks down at me before pulling the handle.
"The main section of the bar," I whisper, and he gives a nod in reply.
We enter the club at the boundary between the dance floor and the first rows of tables. I have to admit, even though I hated that motherfucker, Sarno did have good taste. It's just the right mix of industrial and opulence. The brick walls and exposed pipes give space for the ornate crystal lights and the quilted black leather booths to shine. A wide stage spans the length of the dance floor against the rear wall, framed by sleeping lights and lasers.
"Tequila," I whisper with a happy clap as I head toward the gleaming copper bar at the other end of the room. Ashen follows in my wake as I weave between the empty tables. I hop over the counter and pull a bottle of Gran Patron and two glasses from the shelves.
"I am not sure now is really the time," Ashen says as he lays a hand on the bar and scans the room.
"I think now is the perfect time. Besides, you promised."
"No, I didn't."
I let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm a vampire. I remember everything. Your exact words were 'Come with me, vampire, and I promise I will make it up to you later'."
"My promise was specific to the part about making it up to you in bed afterward. I only pointed out that tequila and lunch were both located in the building."
"Ashen of House Urbigu," I say in my most chastising voice, clucking my tongue as I pull the glass stopper from the bottle and pour two shots. "Stop fussing about technicalities and drink up."
I down my liquor. The burn tingles in my lips and blazes a trail down my throat. I refill my glass under Ashen's watchful gaze.
"We should go," he says, but I make no motion to agree.
I finish my second shot and look through the sheen of liquid at the base of the glass to the polished copper bar. I've always loved the color of copper. I fill my glass once more and take just a sip this time, closing my eyes to relish the smoky flavor that coats my tongue. There are so many little things I love about life, like the sparkling flecks in metal or the flavor of a good drink. So many little things like these and I love them all, and together they make something so fantastical that it burns a hole in my chest when I really stop to add them up. How precious moments like this are, sharing a drink in silence with someone you love.
I open my eyes and give Ashen a bittersweet smile. "Don't you find it a bit odd that Jessie was just chilling out here with no one around? I know it's not really prime club hours and all, but you'd think someone would have been guarding him. There'd at least be someone here."
The flame in Ashen's eyes grows brighter. He doesn't look surprised. He looks as though the weight of this idea and its implications already lays its heavy burden in his thoughts. "They must have known we had figured out that witches were involved. Perhaps someone saw me take the book of witch lineages and they reasoned we would identify a co
"Did you find something in the book? You said at your house there was a co
"They were cousins. Both came from an ancient line. Bobby was the older of the two, it seems, but nothing was recorded of his existence further back than Greek times. That doesn't mean he was not already around, however. When his father died, Bobby started amassing more power. That would have been shortly before the reaping of Aglaope."
"Well," I say, turning my glass against the surface of the bar before raising it to my lips and taking another sip. "It probably doesn't matter now anyway. Because this is clearly a trap."
Ashen fills his lungs with a heavy sigh and finally lifts his glass from the bar. He takes the shot and I refill it when he's done. "I'm afraid you might be right. But it is not certain. Are there more rooms?"
"A lounge and another two offices upstairs. And the staircase to the rooftop bar. It might be safer than going back the way we came or trying to waltz out the front door. We'll have a good line of sight to the streets below and there are two other rooftops within jumping distance."
Ashen finishes his second drink and sets the glass on the counter with a heavy thunk. "Let's go then."
"Nah, I think we should just stay here with all the alcohol and let them find us when they're ready."
"That's... that's a truly terrible idea. And you've had some spectacularly terrible ideas."
"Like what, killing an angel? That was a great idea."
I give Ashen the most lighthearted smile I can manage. And truthfully, it's not as hard as I thought it would be. I've been dodging death for a long time now. There's a certain peace in thinking these moments might be my last and choosing to embrace them in the way I want to.
I'm not so sure Ashen agrees.
His gaze falls away from mine. He drags a palm through his hair and presses his hand to the back of his neck as he lowers his head. I see the growing light of his eyes reflected in the polished surface of the bar.
"I'm sorry, Lu," he whispers, keeping his eyes lowered for a long moment. It seems to take a lot of effort to meet my gaze. When he does, I see desperation there. Despair. Remorse. Sadness that swells like a raging sea crashing against a rocky shore. "I should not have brought you here. I think you're right. I think it is a trap. But we need to go, in case we haven't yet sprung it and we can still get out."
I down my last shot of tequila and lean across the bar, folding my hand across Ashen's wrist to pull his knuckles to my lips. They're still spattered with Jessie's blood. I press a kiss to his skin, letting my lips linger there while I inhale the scent of Ashen's skin beneath the stains.
"All right, Reaper," I say when I let go. I offer a faint smile that does nothing to douse the fire in his eyes. "Follow me."
I lead us between the tables in a path to the left side of the room where a set of black stairs ascend toward the glittering crystal fixtures suspended from the ceiling. They end at a wide landing with leather couches and dramatic flower arrangements, high tables and expensive artwork in ornate gold frames. There's a V.I.P. lounge to the left and I can already tell it's empty. There's no breath, no heartbeat, no scent. On the right is a short corridor with an office on either side. Again, the rooms are empty, silent. Straight ahead is a final set of stairs. The stairs to the roof.