Page 142 of Demon's Bluff

He winced, looking entirely alive, and a spike of something struck me. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I had a lot to think about.”

His voice was soft, but it filled my world, and I shoved the emotions away. They weren’t mine to enjoy anymore. “You need to go downstairs,” I said. “Come on. We can talk there.”

“No.”

I rocked to a halt at his single word. It was getting easier to ignore his pull. But maybe that was because he was refusing to do what was good for him. “No?” I echoed, and he shifted from foot to foot. But his very uncomfortableness made him all the more charming. Damn, it was as if he was still alive—only better.

Kisten looked at my hands but didn’t take them. “I don’t want you going downstairs. Ever. Not if I’m there.”

That took me aback, and I hesitated. “I’ve been in Piscary’s old apartments before,” I said, trying to figure out where his concern was coming from. “I can handle myself. Nina—”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he interrupted. “Or Nina, or Constance.”

If he wasn’t worried about them, or me…

Fear was a quick flash. Kisten felt it, and I stiffened as his pupils widened. He was worried about himself. That’s why he had been avoiding me. Not to give Trent and me some space.Oh…shit.

I took a breath. Held it. Let it go. Took a step back. He was worried about himself, and here I was, pushing his buttons. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my gaze on the white ceiling as I forced myself to relax.

Kisten glanced at the huge clock on the wall across from the elevator. The threat of the approaching sun seemed to calm him, and his eyes returned to their usual brown. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his gaze flicking to my hands. “Say thank you for not letting the sun burn me. Keeping me safe. Not letting me starve.”

I licked my lips. It was Kisten. He’d never hurt me. Would he?I can’t touch you ever again.“You’re welcome. I’m…sorry. It was a day for you.”

“And two years for you.” He smiled, his lips closed, and my heart seemed to break. “I’m trying to get my car back. Do you know who bought it?”

The world was out of balance, and I felt unreal. “No, sorry. I have your pool table, though. It’s cracked again. Needs a new felt.” Wincing, I met his gaze, once again a sedate, calm brown. “I used it for a spelling table.”

He chuckled, and I relaxed. “Keep it,” he said, smile fading as he realized the distance between us would never change. “I’ll come over some night and play pool.” He grinned, becoming my Kisten again. “Once you get it refelted.”

“Deal.” He wasn’t touching me. I didn’t think he would ever again. And it hurt even as I silently thanked him. “I didn’t mean to fall in love. I thought you were gone.”

“I was. I am.” He looked at my hand as if wanting to take it. “This is better for you. I only want you to be happy.” His gaze lifted to mine. “Tell Kalamack that if he makes a mistake, I will be there. Always.”

I remembered how it felt when his hand held mine, and an odd feeling trickled through me. “That’s kind of what I’m worried about,” I half joked, and he chuckled.

“Me too,” he said, then sighed as if actually needing the breath. “I said it in the bar, and I’ll say it again so you believe me this time. I limit you. Kalamack doesn’t. This is a good thing. Don’t worry about me. I’m still getting auras from that spell. I don’t need a scion, but I’m finding what I think is peace in caring for Pike, and he in caring for me. He has had a difficult life and deserves as much joy as he can find.” His attention flicked to the clock. “I have to go,” he added, taking a step back.

I nodded, sensation spilling to my extremities as he turned his back to me.

His steps were silent on the stairs. “I mean it, Rachel,” he said over his shoulder as he descended. “Do not come down here. There are too many memories to confuse me, and I’m still trying to parse out the flavor between instinct and love. Don’t make me ruin what you can be, what you already are.”

“You could never do that,” I whispered, knowing he could hear me with his new, undead senses. But we both knew it was a lie, and I lingered until I heard the door at the bottom shut before I turned to leave. Head down, I made my way through the kitchen, the space now humid with hot water and soap as the counters and grills were cleaned for tomorrow.

My mind whirled with everything I had forgotten to tell him: how I’d felt seeing him in that cruddy little strip club, that I ached for leaving him even as I had brought him home, that I was glad he was here. That I was sorry for having fallen in love again.

But clearly Kisten already knew.

Vampires sucked.

The main floor had a few patrons left as I passed through to the stairs, but the feeling was decidedly one of closing up. Head down, I went up the stairs, thethump-thump-thumpof the bass becoming softer with each step until it was hardly noticed, a subliminal heartbeat of the world. The coven had been dogging me for months. It was all going to end tonight at the top of a vamp bar.

“Hey, Pike. Hi, Brad.” Still trying to shake off thoughts of Kisten, I took in the upper room with its black-painted windows covered in thick drapes and its informal seating. Pike was at the rear behind the tiny bar, and I went to talk to the elegant, scarred man before we got started. He was caring for Kisten? In hindsight, I shouldn’t be surprised. Both of them had been betrayed by those whom they had trusted, who should have loved them, whom they had loved.

“Scott,” I said flatly as I passed him, thinking he looked uneasy in his ten-year-old visage, his primary-colored sneakers dangling as he sat at a low, round drink table. Brad was next to him, the older living vampire hunched over his handheld game, utterly absorbed. The witch took a breath to say something, but I just kept walking, ignoring him with a surly annoyance.

Pike smirked as I set my plastic bag on the smooth bar top. “Hi, Rachel. Almost dawn. What can I do to help?”

I pulled in the fuddling fumes rising up from the basement. They were better than a shot of tequila, and I glanced at Scott, wondering why he was here and what was in the tightly rolled paper bag at his feet. “Ah, I could use a bottle of ice water,” I said, and Pike turned to the tiny fridge. “You good with this?” I added. “Brad is going to be pissed when he regains everything. What if he makes a go for you? I can handle the coven. I doubt Kisten will let any harm come to you, either.”