Possessed by the Fallen. Sharon AshwoodЧитать онлайн книгу.
as a lover or as an operative, Jack was a formidable presence.
He was darkly handsome in a way that made women stop and turn, the blue of his eyes like an arctic sky, pure and wild. With wings and a flaming sword, he might have been the archangel Michael—but Jack would have mocked the comparison. He was a vampire of the Company of the Dead, a covert agent and pure sin between the sheets.
And Lark was about to betray him. She was afraid, but beneath the trepidation a hot ball of grief hovered in her chest. She missed Jack already. She’d made the basic mistake of falling in love with her mark.
Her expression must have betrayed her nerves. Jack leaned forward, his hands on the desk. Those eyes of his, so icy cool with everyone else, were warm with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want my help? You’re the lead on this. It’s your call, but if you think they’re coming here tonight, you need backup.”
“This is only a burglary, so no big deal. I have an alarm system,” she said lightly.
“Alarms don’t help if you’re here alone and the thieves have weapons. I know you’re tough, but you’re only one agent.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know if my information is good. You’re worrying over something that probably won’t happen.”
His grimace said she was an idiot, and he was right. She was absolutely certain she was about to get a visit from the bad guys, but bringing them down single-handedly would be a redemption of sorts. An apology for what she was about to do, and maybe proof that Lark of the Light Fey wasn’t altogether a traitor.
She pushed back from her desk, crossing to an armoire against the wall. Her Manhattan design atelier was huge—wood floors, cutting tables and bare brick walls with high arched windows to let in the light. Now those windows looked out on the glamour of the New York nightscape that sparkled like a fantasy through the darkness. This was Lark’s kingdom, and she was its queen of fashion and beauty. Any one of her clothing designs fetched a ransom. Starlets and royalty came knocking at her door.
And so did creatures from the Night World. Jack was by far the most civilized among them, but there were others. She’d warded her private office so that no one could see or hear anything extraordinary, not even her assistant right outside the door. Lark was well prepared for sudden upsets.
“Lark, listen.” Jack shoved his hands into his pockets. He was wearing a gray flannel suit, the artful cut of his jacket hiding his many weapons. “Let me stay tonight.”
“You’ll spook them if they come, and waste your time if they don’t.”
“I’ll do surveillance from a safe distance. If nothing happens, we’ll go for a drink and call it a night.”
Lark paused, tempted. She fingered the handle of the armoire, wishing she could change her mind. It would be so easy to agree and let everything stay the same. She’d be safe, Jack would remain her lover and she’d keep this glamorous life a little longer. Her masters in the Light Court, the ones who’d sent her to spy on Jack, would be none the wiser. Sometimes orders could be dodged, at least for a while.
But she was a double agent. Behind the masks of fashion queen and playboy, she and Jack worked for the Company. And behind that mask, she worked for her own people. She was weaving a very tangled web—but then she was a fey. Tangled webs were their favorite thing.
She opened the armoire door, sticking to her plan. If she failed now, she condemned her entire race. What was a single love affair weighed against that? Selfishness. Weakness. Cowardice. Lark swallowed down burning regret.
“I’ll be fine. I have something I need you to do.” She pulled a dress box from the armoire and walked it over to her desk.
“What’s this?” Jack asked.
Lark lifted the lid. Inside was a nest of blue tissue paper, and beneath it a glittering confection of white satin and lace. It was the masterpiece of the collection she’d been commissioned to create for the royal wedding, and as a designer it was her personal best. She touched the garment lightly, feeling a surge of pride. “It’s Princess Amelie’s wedding dress, sewn with the Marcari diamonds. This is what the enemy agents are after. Between the gems and the dress itself, it’s worth a fortune.”
A fortune the enemy would use for much worse crimes than theft. Every diamond would fund countless deaths. Lark put a hand on Jack’s sleeve. “I need you to get it away from here. Make sure Amelie wears it on her wedding day.”
Jack gave her an incredulous look. “So you want me to save the dress and leave you here to face the thieves?”
Lark slipped the lid back on the box, feeling a flush of dismay creeping up her cheeks. It would be so much easier if he didn’t care. “Yes. You save the dress. They can’t steal what’s not here.”
Jack slipped an arm around her waist. “Forget the gown. Amelie has a palace full of dresses. I’ve got only you.”
She turned, bracing her palms against his chest, putting a few inches between them. “I’m not covered with a significant portion of the crown jewels.”
Undeterred, he bent forward, his lips brushing her cheek. “I’d like to see that,” he said, voice intimate and teasing. “Just the diamonds. Nothing else but skin.”
“Promise me you’ll take the dress. Give me your word.” Don’t kiss me. I can’t bear it if you kiss me.
His brows furrowed. “I’ll take it, if it’s that important to you.”
“It is. It’s Princess Amelie’s wedding. Whatever else happens, she deserves a perfect dress for it.”
That was absolutely true, as was the fact someone would try to steal the gown and its jewels tonight. Preventing the theft—and the crimes that would flow from the stolen fortune—was her last act as a Company agent, and one she had to complete. Hopefully it would salve the guilt to come.
“I give you my word,” Jack said, obviously confused.
“Good.” If he gave his word, he would do it, regardless of whatever horrible thing she did next. There was something to be said for the old, proud vampires and their sense of honor.
Jack took her arms, turning her to face him. “You’re shivering. What’s gotten into you?”
She froze, her head bowed, not able to answer right away. She was desperately trying to keep her mission front and center in her mind. Her people were weak, at a time when their darkest enemy threatened to return. The Light Fey needed a weapon—and Jack was the most powerful vampire walking the earth. Lark’s mission was to find and harness that source of strength.
But whatever made Jack unique was a secret he guarded closely. Two years in his bed had given her only the smallest of clues, and she’d run out of time and options.
He was looking at her as if she was the most precious creature on the planet.
“You’re different from anyone I’ve ever known,” she finally said. “You’re different from other vampires.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said quickly. But it was true.
Lark looked up into his face. His brows were drawn together. Tension was creeping into his expression—an awareness something was seriously wrong. Regret plunged through her, stiletto sharp. Beneath Jack’s power and courage, beneath the physical beauty and astonishing strength, was the kindest heart she knew. I love you, but my people are dying. Our children don’t live to see their first name day, and I was the one chosen to help. Forgive me for this.
She slid the spelled dagger from her sleeve, and with a quick, upward thrust she drove it into his abdomen. She was strong, but it took all her force to pierce the hard wall of his abdomen. Their cries mingled for a horrible moment—his filled with surprise, hers with grief.
It wasn’t a fatal blow—not to a vampire—but the magic in the blade would rip away every secret