Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers) - By Michelle Rowen Page 0,94

to swirl smaller and smaller, until it disappeared completely. The roaring sound vanished, but the echo of it still rang in my ears.

The five of us stood in the warehouse’s empty parking lot in stunned silence.

Zach was gone.

Bishop was at my side in an instant, pulling me into his arms.

“What just happened?” Jordan demanded. “Am I going completely insane?”

The next moment, Stephen began to come to. He groaned and lifted his head. Kraven swiftly moved toward him, pulled the groggy gray to his feet, then whacked his head off the wall again. “Stay down.”

We’d saved the monster, but lost an angel.

* * *

Walking next to Kraven, Connor carried Stephen fireman-style over his shoulders as we made our way back to St. Andrew’s. Jordan trailed silently next to me, sending scared, but annoyed looks at me every few moments. Bishop was to my right, his solid presence something I needed for strength right now, even though we weren’t touching.

No one said anything. We were all in shock.

Standing between two people with tempting souls, I struggled against my hunger, which had begun to increase again to a level impossible to ignore.

The misery must have been clear on my face.

“How much longer?” Bishop asked quietly.

He didn’t have to clarify that he meant my stasis. That had to be what the voice in my head had also meant, although I didn’t know what or who it was, only that it scared the hell out of me. “I don’t know.”

“Guess.”

I swallowed hard. “Not long.”

He swore under his breath. “When Stephen wakes up again, I will get your soul back.”

I tensed. “By hurting him.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” He said it so firmly that I believed every word. The cold that had worked its way into every part of my body thawed just a tiny bit to know he was willing to go to extremes for me.

But I didn’t say thank-you. I couldn’t thank him for an offer to torture somebody for information, even if it was to save my life.

Once we returned to the church, the reality of losing Zach set in. Grief clawed at my chest, but I fought to hold back any tears.

Also the fact that I’d been held captive for a day and a half was catching up to me.

“I need water,” I said. “My throat’s so dry.”

“There’s a bathroom at the end of that hall.” Bishop nodded toward the back of the sanctuary.

With a sweeping glance over the group, including Jordan, who didn’t meet my gaze, leaning against the pews in the darkened church with its high ceiling and stained-glass windows, I slipped away to freshen up. I desperately wanted to eat, drink and have a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

The halls were dark, but I found the bathroom easily. I pressed my hand against the smooth, cool door and pushed it open. The electricity might not work in the church, but the water did, which was a relief. I scooped handfuls of it from the tap to my mouth, until my thirst faded.

I heard something and stopped drinking, raising my gaze to look at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I saw a very pale girl with dark, tangled hair and haunted brown eyes.

The sound I heard was low voices from nearby. I immediately recognized them as Cassandra’s and Roth’s.

I left the bathroom and moved farther down the hall to the end, where there was a small secretarial office, its door slightly ajar.

“You have to stop this,” Cassandra said.

“You think it’s that easy?”

“It has to be. There’s no other way.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Then you’re delusional. I didn’t come here for this. I never wanted this.”

“That makes two of us.” Roth’s words were sharply edged with annoyance.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, I hate you, too.”

What were they arguing about now? Cassandra despised the demon as much as I did, but constant squabbling wasn’t going to help anybody right now.

They’d gone silent, but then I heard a quiet moan. My heart skipped a beat. If he was hurting her...

I pushed the door open all the way, ready to interrupt like I’d done at Ambrosia the other night.

Then I stopped when I saw them, and my mouth fell wide-open in shock.

They weren’t squabbling. And he wasn’t hurting her.

They were kissing. Passionately.

I must have gasped loud enough for them to hear, because they broke apart so fast it was almost comical. Cassandra’s hand flew to her mouth and her gaze shot toward me.

Guilt flooded her expression.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” she managed.

Roth glared at

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