Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers) - By Michelle Rowen Page 0,51
moved his attention to the road zipping past outside the bus window. “I can think of a few other choice ways he should go. But we’re one big friendly team right now, aren’t we? All for one, one for all.”
“Are you?”
That earned me a look. “Someone’s rather combative tonight.”
“Didn’t expect the company. Feel free to go back to a reasonable stalking distance when we get off this bus.”
“We’ll see.”
I stopped talking for another couple minutes. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask. I might not feel like answering.”
My grip tightened on the strap of my leather bag. “How long ago was it that you and Bishop were grave robbers? A hundred years ago? More?”
His head whipped in my direction and for a second, his amber eyes glowed red in the half darkness of the bus. “Somebody’s been doing a little research.”
It was enough of a reaction to let me know I’d struck a nerve. I shifted in my seat and the vinyl squeaked. “You don’t seem ashamed.”
“Should I be?”
I almost laughed. “I just accused you of being a grave robber. Yeah, I’d think you’d be ashamed of that.”
“Dead people.” Kraven shrugged. “What do they need that they’re buried in? We needed it more.”
“You were poor?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “Let’s just say we were underprivileged.” He went silent, studying me curiously. “How did you learn about this, anyway?”
“I have my ways.”
He snorted. “So cryptic. I’d normally appreciate that if I wasn’t slightly uneasy about you knowing stuff about my past.”
I’d struck gold when it came to serious information about the brothers. I couldn’t stop digging now. “You and him...you got along well. You wanted to help him fix his eyes.”
The amused look faded from his face. “Nearly forgot about that.”
“Did you help him?”
“Can he see now?”
I twisted a finger nervously into my hair, loose around my shoulders tonight since I’d taken it down from its tight ponytail the moment I’d gotten home. “I figure him being an angel kind of fixed any previous problems.”
“You figured that, did you?” There was now a sour note in his voice.
I lowered my voice. Even though we were far from the people at the front of the bus, it still made me nervous that anyone might overhear. “I know he killed you, but it doesn’t make sense. Why would he do that? You two cared about each other.”
His jaw was tight and he stood up from his seat as the bus came to its next stop. “Anyway. This conversation’s over.”
I followed him off the bus, quickening my steps to keep up with him. I wasn’t letting him get away now. “He killed you and sent you to Hell. He told me that much. I saw his memories last night, like I was reading his mind—saw them, experienced them. Then he freaked out and left.”
He stared at me over his shoulder incredulously. His legs were long enough that if he really wanted to put distance between us and escape me, he could. “I just bet he did.”
“It was when he was only fifteen. You two worked for someone named Kara. You sold the cadavers to a medical school, but you kept the jewelry to sell to help fix his eyesight. And you...” I strained to remember what I’d seen. “You wore a gold cross around your neck. Makes me think you were religious.”
His expression was now a mirror image of how Bishop looked at me last night after the memory meld. “I’d stop talking now if I was you, gray-girl.”
Stop? But I’d just gotten started. And I was on a roll. I had to keep pressing. There was something here—some connection I knew was vital. “Bishop changed his name to show how much he wanted to forget the past. Kraven’s your last name, isn’t it?” I was guessing now, but I knew I was right. “James is your first name. Just because you go by your last name doesn’t mean that you’re forgetting who you were. You remember. Come on, tell me something. Anything.”
“Why?” There was the faint echo of pain in his voice. “So you can understand him better? Sorry, I’m not really in the mood to help pave your way to true love, sweetness.”
True love? Maybe in my wildest dreams. But I’d never been a dreamer, I’d always been a realist. Even now. “You’re kidding, right? He’s an angel who’s been around for years and years. He’s an angel of death—an assassin. How could I ever seriously think somebody like him