Page 7 of Vanish Into Light

He lifted his head at the sound, and his glowing, golden eyes nearly drove her back a step.

She remembered a night in the chairs that bracketed the fireplace, the much-softer gleam of his eyes, the blankness of his face, the blood smudged on his hands. A night when she’d wanted to lean toward him, magnetized.

Now, she wanted to lean back.

His nostrils flared, before a quick, barely-there smile touched his mouth. His wings lifted and mantled over his head, sheltering him from the rain, and he beckoned her with one clawed finger.

She thought of Lance sayingshock.

Slowly, she crossed the distance between them, until she stood beneath the cover of his wings, close enough to smell that new brimstone scent that clung to him; close enough to see the true warmth that kindled in his lustrous eyes. Close enough to feel the heat he seemed to generate.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

She had to swallow before she could speak, and she watched his gaze flicker down to touch her throat as he noticed. “Hi.”

His head tilted, and he fixed her with the earnest, intense gaze she’d seen in her dreams and nightmares for five years. “How’s your man?”

It took her a moment to understand that he meant Lance, and then her stomach lurched. “Oh. Um. He’s notmy–”

His grin, a quick glimpse of fangs, cut her off.

In a gentle tone, he said, “Yes, he is. I’ve known from the first. Did you think I couldn’t smell him on you?”

He couldsmellLance on her?

She said, “It was only–”

“Relax, baby.” A low, feline purr rumbled in his throat, and that was still so strange. “I’m not angry. I like him.”

Her pulse quickened, and probably he couldhearthat, she guessed. God. “How could you?” she blurted. “He’s nothing like you.”

His head tilted the other way. “Oh, Rosie. We’re alike in the way that matters most: we both love you.”

She could only stare at him, insides churning, caught between giddiness and panic. It had always seemed like such a simple thing, before Wales, before Derfel: that she would bring Beck back, and they would pick up where they’d left off. They would be together again, a whole entity once more, rather than this half-human shell that had been walking around in her skin for five years. Lance had never fit into that equation; she’d stubbornly refused to even think about what the fallout might look like.

But therewasfallout. Lance loved her, and he didn’t want to let go, even if his honor had forced him back from her. He was worried, and he still wanted her, even if it was eating him up inside.

And Beck was back, and he was still her Beck…but Lance was right, because Beck was also something wholly different she’d never anticipated.

Morgan had tried to warn her that nothing came out of hell untouched, but she’d been so sure, so determined…

The stinging in her eyes shocked her; enabled her to draw herself back together before she splintered. She shook her head firmly, took a deep breath, and said, “Lance will be fine. Morgan closed the wound and they’re giving him fluids.”

Beck grinned again. “Excellent.”

“Beck, what did you do to Shubert?” She hadn’t asked him outright about his – his new form. His changes, and what they might mean. But the curiosity boiled inside her now, like noxious fumes. “Youdrank his blood.”

His gaze froze – and then retreated; stayed fixed on her face, but she saw him drawing back inside, the glow dimming, slightly. “Yes,” he said, in the distant, indecipherable tone of their first weeks together, when she’d only been fascinated – before she loved him. “Did that disturb you?”

Goosebumps broke out beneath her clothes. “I’ve never seen anyone do that – human or conduit.” She reached to place a hand on his chest, startled by the effort it took – there had never been anything like effort between them, save the effort of holding back – and found that at least the steady thump of his heart was the same as ever. “I’m just trying to understand, Beck. No one’s been able to take down Shubert yet, and you made it look easy.”

Just like that, his gaze sharpened, pleased, and his face softened fractionally. “Perhaps it would be best if I demonstrated.”

~*~

“Absolutelynot.” General Waits was rapidly turning red, the flush crawling upward from his too-tight collar and staining his jaw. “I gave you some latitude, Captain – too much of it. But this is a bridge too far.”

“With all due respect, General,” Bedlam began.

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