Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(22)

Yes, I was thousands of years too old for this, but so what? I had the rest of my life to act my age.

Ian laughed, flashing his lit-up gaze at the attendant. “One more time for both of us.”

“One more time” turned into three, until my head spun from the repeated g-forces and the simple joy of reveling in the moment. By the time fireworks broke out over the castle, signaling the park’s closing, I was happier than I would have thought possible at the beginning of the night.

“This was nice,” I said as I watched the sky explode with colors above us.

He laughed. “Normally, I’d take such faint praise as failure, but from you, it means tonight was a smashing success.”

“Yes, your record of showing your dates a good time is still intact,” I assured him.

“I do have a reputation to maintain,” he said with a sly grin. Then that grin faded and his expression turned serious. “In truth, I wanted you to have a good memory to replace the wretched one of the two of us at that other theme park.”

The blood in my veins turned to glass. Ian remembered that?

“Now, what were my last words?” he asked almost casually.

I was so shocked, I was stuttering. “W-what?”

“My last words before I died. What were they?”

I took several steps backward, then hit a metal gate. A quick glance revealed that Ian had picked a deserted place with no exits to spring this on me. I couldn’t fly away from him, either. The brightly lit park had too many security cameras.

“I figured out why my body read as new to Leila,” Ian went on in that deceptively causal tone. “It’s why I have a demon’s abilities without the demon brand, and why I no longer owe Dagon my soul. I died, yet here I stand. Care to tell me how?”

“Ian . . .” I couldn’t tell him I’d saved him. I refused to saddle him with a debt he’d feel honor-bound to repay.

“I think I know,” he said lightly. “Granted, my first glimpse of the Grim Reaper was so terrifying, it was easy to forget his real appearance, but his hair is quite distinctive.” He paused to run a hand through mine. “So are his eyes, and your blood isn’t vampire, demon, or ghoul. Knew you were more than a vampire, but I hadn’t remembered what that ‘more’ was. I do now. You’re half of whatever he is, so either you or he plucked me out of hell and brought me back.”

Dammit, he knew too much! I had to tell him something.

“It wasn’t hell.” I met his gaze, steeling myself. “Dagon had been hoarding souls he made bargains with inside himself. We didn’t know that until we killed him and he burned through one of them to resurrect himself. Then he killed you and swallowed your soul, so the darkness you remember is being trapped inside him. It’s also how you absorbed some of his power. I had my father pull you out because you’d saved my life earlier that night, so I saved yours as repayment, making us even.”

You owe me nothing, hung unspoken in the air between us. I wanted to stress it, but that would make him suspicious. No, I had to act nonchalant.

Ian stared at me, his gaze relentless. “I remember part of that story very differently. Dagon didn’t take my life—I shoved that last bone blade through my eye myself.”

The memory scalded me so deeply, I flung him away. Before I could blink, he grabbed me. Everything blurred, and when it stopped, we were in an empty section of the vast parking lot, the noise from the now faraway park fading in the distance.

“Why did I do it?” he continued. “I must have told you.”

“I don’t remember,” I lied.

He stroked my cheek, his touch gentle despite his iron grip on my arms. “My last memory was the look on your face. There’s no chance you forgot any of it.”

There wasn’t, even if I lived another four-and-a-half-thousand years. But I still couldn’t tell him. It hurt too much . . .

Two people materialized behind Ian. For a split second, I thought I was having a PTSD attack with vivid hallucinations, because I recognized one of them and this couldn’t be happening. Not again.

The boyishly handsome, blond-haired demon grinned much the same way he had when he’d shoved that bone knife into Ian’s eye several weeks ago. Only this time, the knife in Dagon’s hand was silver, and he was grinning as he aimed it at Ian’s back.





Chapter 11


My other nature ripped free as if I’d never had the power to hold it back. My vision blackened, my emotions iced over, and my skin split from the power exploding out of me. I couldn’t see Dagon fall to his knees, but I could feel it. I could hear him, too. He was screaming with what sounded like unbelievable pain.

How curious. I hadn’t even started to rip him apart yet—and what did Ian think he was doing, pushing me aside?

“Get behind me,” I heard Ian hiss. “A dozen more demons just teleported in here!”

I felt the bone knife Ian withdrew from his coat. Felt the water pulsating inside of him, its power calling to me. Then my vision cleared and I saw the new demons. They were behind Dagon, who was writhing on the ground in much the same way Ian did when a new memory overtook him.

Ah, yes, my father had ensured that Dagon couldn’t be near Ian without crippling pain. The Warden must not have told Dagon that. How predictably evasive of him. Now, Dagon was helpless and he couldn’t teleport away to save himself—