The Last of the Red Hot Vampires - By Katie MacAlister Page 0,45

head and raised myself up off the ground, I realized that the demon who had yanked us from my hotel room through the tear in the wall had evidently returned us the same way.

Vision slowly returned to me. "Theo! Sweet mother of reason, are you all right?" I crawled over to where Theo lay facedown on the floor next to my bed. "Where did he hurt you? Is anything broken? Are you bleeding?"

Carefully, I pushed over Theo's unresisting body until he lay on his back. I quickly checked him over for injuries, but found none. "Theo? I can't find anything wrong with you. What did the demon lord do?"

"I'm all right." His eyes opened slowly.

I sucked in my breath, unable to believe what I was seeing. "Your eyes...they're grey."

Theo frowned. "Pardon?"

"Your eyes are grey. They aren't black anymore. Here, I'll show you." I helped him to his feet and opened the door to the wardrobe so he could see. He stared at himself for a moment, then turned back to me, despair and anguish welling up inside him.

"Salus invenitur," he swore.

"Latin was never my strong point. What exactly does that mean?"

"Salvation is found."

I raised my eyebrows in question.

A mirthless smile graced his lips. "It's the nephilim's equivalent to a self-depreciating 'fuck me!'"

"Ah. I like your version better. Why did Bael change your eyes?"

His jaw tightened. "That is merely a side effect of the curse."

"I heard him say he was cursing you," I said slowly, watching him carefully. So far he seemed perfectly normal, except for the profound sadness that seemed to leach from within him. "But I don't quite understand what happened. What exactly are you cursed with?"

To my amazement, Theo's eyes grew brighter until they were almost white. "He took my soul."

"He what?"

"That light you saw - that was my soul being ripped from my body," Theo said, his face flushed with fury. "The bastard took my soul and left me an empty shell."

"Sweet mother," I whispered, wrapping my arms around him, holding him tight against the sorrow and anger and frustration that filled him. The pain eased a little. I poured into him every molecule of comfort I possessed. "I'm so sorry. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am that you got involved in this. I will feel guilty for the rest of my life."

"It's not your fault, sweetling," he murmured, nuzzling my neck. His anger and anguish melted away even more, and something hot and potent filled him instead. "I knew the risk when I offered myself as your champion. Di immortales, you smell good."

A little shiver of excitement skittered down my back as he kissed the hollow behind my ear. "Yes, but if I hadn't been so stupid about believing you, none of this would have happened. I would have been paying attention rather than fighting you every step of the way."

"Mmm. You smell sweet and spicy, like a woman waiting to be satisfied." He pulled back enough to look into my eyes, which were brimming with tears of guilt. "Portia, I forbid you to feel guilt at what happened. There was no avoiding this. Bael cannot punish you without bringing the wrath of the Court down upon your head, and he would not risk such an action."

"Your eyes are almost black again. That doesn't make any sense. How can eye color change? Never mind, it's not important. What is important is the fact that you've lost your soul because of me."

He laughed and nipped my earlobe, his hands roaming over my back and behind. "You never cease to amaze me. I'm surprised that given your skeptical nature and scientific training, you believe in souls."

"I'm agnostic, not a solipsist," I said, a familiar tension building within me at every nibble of his teeth, every touch of his hands. "Logic dictates that if there is a way for your soul to be taken from you, there must be a way to return it. I swear to you now that if it's the last thing I do, I will get you back your soul."

"Smart, sexy, and so delicious," he murmured against my shoulder as my bathrobe parted and slipped down my arms. "I hunger for you, sweetling. Tell me you still want me."

He was hungry. It was growing in him, an unnamed hunger for me, for something that only I could give him. It swelled and spilled out until I shared the hunger, shared the need for physical relief. I ripped his shirt off, heedless