Grave Peril

"So you’re saying they’d kill you," Susan said.

"Bianca has a grudge against me," I said. "She couldn’t just sneak up on me and tear my throat out, but she could arrange for something to happen to me more indirectly. It’s probably what she has in mind."

Susan frowned. "I’ve seen you handle things a lot worse than those two out there."

I let out a breath in exasperation. "Maybe, sure. But what’s the point in taking chances?"

"Can’t you see what this might mean to me?" she said. "Harry, that footage I shot of the werewolf – "

"Loup-garou," I interrupted.

"Whatever. It was ten seconds of footage that was only aired for three days before it vanished – and it put me further ahead than five years of legwork. If I could publish actual interviews with vampires – "

"Sheesh, Susan. You’re reading too much off the bestseller list. In the real world, the vampire eats you before you get to hit the record button."

"I’ve taken chances before – so have you."

"I don’t go looking for trouble," I said.

Her eyes flashed. "Dammit, Harry. How long have I been putting aside the things that happen to you? Like tonight, when I was supposed to be spending the evening with my boyfriend and instead I’m bailing him out of jail."

Ouch. I glanced down. "Susan, believe me. If I could have done anything else – "

"This could be a fantastic opportunity for me."

She was right. And she had bailed me out of trouble often enough before that maybe I owed her that opportunity, dangerous as it might be. She was a big girl and could make her own choices. But dammit, I couldn’t just nod my head and smile and let her walk into that kind of danger. Better to try to sidetrack her. "No," I said. "I’ve got enough problems without pissing off the White Council again."

Her eyes narrowed. "What’s this White Council? Kyle talked to you as though it were some kind of ruling body. Is it like the Vampire Court, only for wizards?"

Exactly like that, I thought. Susan hadn’t gotten as far as she had by being stupid. "Not really," I told her.

"You’re a horrible liar, Harry."

"The White Council is a group of the most powerful men and women in the world, Susan. Wizards. Their big currency is in secrets, and they don’t like people knowing about them."

Her eyes gleamed, like a hound on a fresh scent. "And you’re … some kind of ambassador for them?"

I had to laugh at the notion. "Oh, God, no. But I’m a member. It’s sort of like having a black belt. It’s a mark of status, of respect. With the council, it means that I get to vote, when issues come up, and that I have to abide by their rules."

"Are you entitled to represent them at a function like this?"

I didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed. "Um. Obligated to, really, in this case."

"So if you don’t show up, you’ll be in trouble."

I scowled. "Not as much trouble as I’ll be in if I go. The worst the council’d be able to accuse me of is being impolite. I can live with that."

"And if you do show up? Come on, Harry. What’s the worse that could happen?"

I threw up my hands. "I could get myself killed! Or worse. Susan, you really don’t understand what you’re asking of me." I pushed myself up off the couch, to go to her. Bad idea. My head swam and my vision blurred.

I would have fallen, but Susan dropped the invitation and caught me. She eased me back down to the couch, and I kept my arm around her, drawing her down with me. She felt soft and warm.

We lay there for a minute, and she rubbed her cheek against the duster. Leather creaked. I heard her sigh. "I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t hit you with this right now."

"It’s all right," I said.

"I just think that it’s something big. If we – "

I turned a little, tangled my fingers in the dark softness of her hair, and kissed her.

Her eyelids opened wide for a second, and then lowered. Her words broke off into a low, growling sound, and her mouth softened beneath mine, warm and getting warmer. In spite of my aches and bruises, the kiss felt good. It felt really good. Her mouth tasted nice, the softness of her lips mobile and eager beneath mine. I felt her slide a few fingers in between the buttons of my shirt, caressing the skin there, and electric sensation thrilled through me.

Our tongues met, and I dragged her closer. She moaned again, then abruptly pushed me back enough to straddle my hips with those long and lovely legs and begin to kiss me as though she meant to inhale me. I ran my hands over her hips, lingering on the small of her back, and she moved them, grinding against me. I moved my hands to the taut tension of her thighs and slid them up over the bare, smooth skin, lifting the skirt up, baring her legs, her hips.

I faltered in surprise for a half-second when I realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath – but then, we’d been planning on an evening in. A spasm of need and hunger pounded through all the exhaustion, and I clutched her, felt her gasp again, willing and as hungry as me, her body tensing against me, beneath my hands.

She started jerking at my belt, gasping, her breath hot in my face. "Harry. You jerk. Don’t you think this is going to distract me forever."

Shortly after that, we made sure that neither of us could think of anything at all, and fell asleep a goodly while after that, tangled together in a sprawl of exhausted limbs, dark hair, and soft blankets in front of the fire.

All right, so. The entire day wasn’t a living hell.

But, as it turned out, hell got up awfully early in the morning.

Chapter Nine

I dreamed.

The nightmare felt familiar, almost comfortable, though it had been years since I’d gone through it. It began in a cave, its walls made of translucent crystal, all but glowing in the dim light of the fire beneath the cauldron. The silver manacles were tight on my wrists, and I was too dizzy to keep my own balance. I looked to the left and right and watched my blood glide down over the manacles from where they pierced my wrists like thorns, then fall into a pair of earthen bowls set out beneath them.

My godmother came to me, pale and breathtaking in the firelight, her hair spilling down around her like a cloud of silk. The sidhe lady was beautiful beyond the pale of mortals, her eyes bewitching, her mouth more tempting than the most luscious fruit. She kissed my bare chest. Shudders of cold pleasure ran through me.

"Soon," she whispered, between kisses. "Only a few more nights of the dark moon, my sweetling, and you will be strong enough."

She kept kissing me, and I began to lose my vision. Cold pleasure, faerie magic, coursed through her lips like a drug, so sweet that it was almost an agony of its own, and made the torment of the bonds, the blood loss, almost worthwhile. Almost. I felt myself gasping for breath, and stared at the fire, focusing on it, trying to keep from falling into the darkness.