Angel's Pain. Maggie ShayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
because of anything sappy or emotional, don’t worry on that score. Good night, Briar.”
He turned and walked to the door.
“Why, then?” she called after him.
He didn’t answer, just opened the door and left the room.
Why? The question plagued him all night. Why did he want her? Physical contact with others tended to make him extremely uncomfortable. It had for a long time. Ever since Rebecca…
No, he wasn’t going to think about that, about her. She was off-limits. And yet, since he’d met Briar, Rebecca had been popping into his mind on a regular basis. More and more often, with more and more insistence. And it was getting harder, night by night, to keep the memories at bay.
He had an hour to get through before the day sleep would take him. As he retired to the room Topaz had deemed his, he noted the big-screen television and the stereo system, and knew both were bad ideas. Any program, any song, might contain the single word that would send him into a murderous rage, thanks to the brainwashing techniques of his old friends at the CIA. His misfits all knew what the trigger word was. Briar knew. They wouldn’t utter it in his presence. But the television or radio might.
Gregor knew the trigger word, as well. The difference was that Gregor also knew the word that would bring him out of it again. That was information for which he could easily kill.
He undressed and sank into the bed, trusting the automatically darkening windows to keep him safe. Topaz wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. He yanked out a cell phone from his pants pocket before dropping them back onto the floor beside the bed, deciding to kill the remaining time by trying to get a message to Eric Marquand.
Rhiannon answered on the first ring. “Hello, darling,” she purred. “I wondered when you’d get around to thanking me for my help on that little Mexican adventure.”
Reaper smiled slowly. Rhiannon wouldn’t have needed caller ID to know who was calling. She was his maker. They shared a psychic bond that couldn’t be stronger.
“Hello, Rhiannon. Thank you for your help on that little Mexican adventure.”
“Right. That’s not why you’re calling, though, is it?”
“No.”
“What do you need, Reaper? Has that bitch vampiress bitten you too hard?”
“If you’re referring to Briar, no. She hasn’t bitten me at all.”
“You are such a liar. You’re doomed, you know. You stand no chance against her.”
“I’m not against her.”
“But you want to be.” She laughed softly, enjoying her torment of him. “I like her,” she said, when her laughter died.
“You’re the only one, then,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t think so. You like her, too.”
“I want to like her,” he admitted. “She’s not making it easy.”
“She wouldn’t. But there’s Crisa. That one seems to adore her.”
“Not anymore.”
Rhiannon went silent. “What’s happened?”
“Crisa is having debilitating headaches, hearing voices, seeing things. Briar gets the headaches when Crisa does. We don’t know what’s causing them.”
“Is it part of the girl’s…condition?”
“I don’t think so. She says not. And she’s insisting there’s a boy somewhere who needs her, who keeps calling out to her, and that she has to go to him. Briar forbade her, and Crisa defied her.”
“Really? That must have come as quite a shock to Briar.”
“Came as a shock to all of us.”
“Well, it would, wouldn’t it? It’s the first hint of a backbone the girl has shown.”
He nodded, sighed. “Do you think Eric Marquand might be able to help us figure out what’s happening to Crisa?”
Rhiannon was silent for a moment. Reaper could hear her long nails rapping in steady rhythm on some surface. Finally she said, “I don’t know for sure, of course. But I can’t think of anyone who’d more likely be able to help. Where are you?”
“At Topaz’s place, Emerald Isle, North Carolina.”
“I’ll pass on your request,” she told him. “I’ll phone you when I have his answer. Meanwhile…I have another answer for you.”
Reaper frowned. “An answer to what? I haven’t asked a question.”
“Well, you must have, or I wouldn’t have an answer screaming in my mind right now, would I? I don’t know what the question is that’s been plaguing you, darling, but I do know the words you need to hear right now.”
Closing his eyes, Reaper lowered his head. He knew damn well what question had been plaguing him. Why was he so drawn to Briar? But he didn’t like opening himself up, revealing his weak-nesses, his feelings, to anyone. Even Rhiannon.
“Shall I tell you?” she asked him.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course not. The answer is, because you think you can’t hurt her.”
“Because I think I can’t hurt her,” he repeated.
“Yes. That’s it. Now, sate my burning curiosity and tell me, what was the question?”
“None of your business.”
“It’s about that prickly bitch, isn’t it?”
“It’s nearly dawn, Rhiannon. I have to go. Good rest.”
“Stubborn prick,” she muttered. Then she hung up.
Reaper ended the call and set his cell phone on the nightstand. Then he lay down in the bed, pulled up the covers and waited for sleep to come, all the while trying not to replay his own question—and Rhiannon’s answer—in his mind. He didn’t need this, not now. Besides, he could already feel the day sleep pulling at him. His body grew heavy. His eyes fell closed. In his mind, he saw Briar, straddling him in that car, bouncing up and down on him, kissing and biting at him as she drove him toward the most shattering climax he’d ever experienced.
Thank God, he thought, that vampires didn’t dream during the day sleep. Otherwise, he thought the memory of that one explosive encounter would haunt him until sundown.
She probably should have taken him up on it, Briar thought, as she examined her new digs with appreciation and ridicule warring for top spot in her mind. She took a long look at the giant Jacuzzi tub, the bottles of oils, scents, lotions and soaps that filled the shelves around it, the loofah and the candles, all of them with clean white wicks. She wondered if Topaz threw them all out and bought new ones every time one of the wicks was blackened by flame. How stupid was that? And what was with the towels? she wondered, as she tugged one off the rack. It was as big as a bedsheet. Who needed a towel that big?
For a moment she envisioned herself soaking in the giant Jacuzzi and making use of the girlie shit that surrounded her. Then, with a roll of her eyes, she opted for the stand-alone shower instead.
It was opulent enough all by itself. Corner-shaped and huge, with not one but three shower-heads—so that she could wash, rinse and masturbate all at the same time, she guessed.
Nothing too good for the princess.
Briar made her shower quick, and tried really hard not to enjoy the pulsing pressure massaging her back and shoulders, though privately, she supposed she had to admit, it was nice.
Even so, she spent the entire time judging Topaz for her spending habits—not that