Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers) - By Michelle Rowen Page 0,44
to understand things. But some things can’t be spoken aloud. Can’t be studied. The truth won’t tell you about me.” He swallowed hard. “Trust your heart.”
“My heart is a bit of a liar.”
“No, it isn’t.” His grip tightened on my hands enough that I finally looked at him. Our eyes met and held. “It knows the truth even if you don’t realize it yet.”
He was so close, too close. Again, I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.
“You could have given me that dagger anytime,” I whispered. “Why now?”
His lips curved to the side. “Maybe I wanted an excuse to visit you alone in your bedroom.”
That coaxed a very small laugh from me, and despite my better judgment, I entwined my fingers with him. I didn’t stop looking in his beautiful blue eyes—eyes I dreamed about every night, even apart from disturbing nightmares. Most of my dreams about Bishop were very good ones.
I slid off the side of my bed so we kneeled face-to-face with each other. I released his hands so I could slide my hands up the front of his chest, his skin warm through the thin barrier of his T-shirt. My thoughts were falling away with each second that passed.
Dangerous. Too dangerous. Cassandra was right.
I needed to kiss him.
This is why he’d come here. All joking aside, all gifts, and information and horrible days pushed away.
He’d come here tonight so I would kiss him. So I could satisfy his inconvenient addiction to me—even if that meant I might take the rest of his soul.
Bishop’s hands tightened at my waist and he pulled me closer to him, close enough that I could feel the rapid pulse of his heart against mine. His eyes glowed an intense blue. I was lost in those eyes as I slid my fingers over his jaw, cheeks, temples and up into his dark hair, so soft to the touch.
My lips were only a whisper away from his...
Snap!
The night’s cold, so cold I can see my breath. My hand shakes as I clutch the torch.
“I can help,” I insist, feeling useless just standing here.
“No, you stay up there,” James says. “You can’t see a damn thing, anyway.”
“Go to hell.” I glare at him, but have to admit the outline of my brother’s familiar form is blurry—only his golden hair is recognizable to me, lit up like a halo from the torchlight. Dark and light—that’s what Kara calls us. Total opposites.
I’d never admit that what the doc told me yesterday has put a deep, shaking fear into me—so much that I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. If I go blind I’ll be useless to anyone, especially myself.
It doesn’t take James long before he finds the body. It’s a fresh grave. At this time of the year, it’s best to get to them quickly or the ground freezes up, making it impossible to snatch anything until the spring thaw.
I throw the torch to the side and help him pull the coffin from the ground, ignoring his protests. It’s hard work and both of us are sweating buckets by the time we’re finished. I grab the crowbar and get to work on the lid. The woman was rich and insisted on being buried wearing her jewelry. How stupid. Can’t take it with you—that’s what Kara says. But we’d be more than happy to take it from you.
“Damn. Look at that rock,” I say, squinting at the egg-size jewel on her necklace.
“I know. She knew how to live.”
“And now she knows how to die. Paper says she choked to death on some fancy food at a party.” I peel the jewels from her wrists, fingers and neck, and toss them in my canvas bag. “What about the body?”
James twists the small gold cross at his throat, his expression turning thoughtful. “We’re taking it, too.”
I hate this part the most. Stealing jewelry is fine. Stealing bodies...I’d never get used to it. “Let’s leave her this time.”
“Leave her?” James frowns. “You know Kara will be furious if we don’t do exactly what she says.”
“Do we always have to do what Kara says?”
Frown forgotten, a typical grin creeps across my brother’s face. “You always do, kid. Anything she asks and then you beg for more. Why should this be any different?”
“Ass.” His comment earns him another glare, even if it’s true. I hated when he called me kid. I’m fifteen now, just turned. At sixteen, my brother thinks he knows everything.
Stealing bodies to sell to the medical school is the least that