Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(25)

He flashed a cheery grin. “More proof that married men live longer than single ones.”

“How’d you get so good at teleporting?” I asked, ignoring that. Then I ran water into the sink until it was full. “You’ve only had this ability for what, three weeks?”

“Four,” he replied, a brow arching when I looked back at him. “Had plenty of incentive to practice with Crispin and Cat hovering over me. How do you think I finally got rid of them? I’m finished with people telling me they know best about my own life.”

That was directed at me, and I was torn. If I were Ian, I wouldn’t put up with people withholding parts of my past, either. I grabbed his hand and held it over the sink. Then I dipped a finger into my hotel-neighbor’s blood and started filling the blocking spell with power.

When I used up the power from the water in the sink, I sent my senses out and used the power from the water in the rest of the hotel. My other half reacted, of course. I owed my affinity with water to that part of me, not my vampire side.

When the spell was ready, I flash-froze some of the water into a sliver of ice. Then I raked that shard across Ian’s palm. His blood darkened the water, and at the same time, the other man’s blood in the cup began to boil.

I took my finger out of the boiling cup and drew a blocking symbol across Ian’s forehead. As soon as I was done, the cup shattered, but no blood stained the tile. It had all flash-boiled away when the spell sealed itself into Ian’s skin.

“There,” I said in satisfaction. “Dagon can no longer use your blood to find you.”

A slow smile curved Ian’s mouth. “Have I ever told you you’re irresistibly attractive when you use forbidden magic?”

“Yes,” I said, then could have kicked myself. Now his gaze was filling up with green flame.

“Don’t,” I said when he reached for me.

The look in his eyes made me shiver. “You want me, and I want you more than anything I’ve wanted in my entire life.”

I had to look away. If I didn’t, I would take him up on every decadent promise in his gaze. “Yes, I want you. But desire is an emotion, not a decision, and I still say no.”

The green flame left his gaze and his eyes hardened into turquoise gems. “Very well, I respect your decision. Now, respect mine and tell me everything you’ve been hiding from me.”

“You do notice the blood leaking from your eyes, ears, and nose every time you get a new memory? That’s a massive cerebral hemorrhage, so your own body is telling you to leave this alone. Didn’t the Grim Reaper also warn you that pursuing your memories could destroy your mind?”

“He did,” Ian said at once. “I told him I wanted my memories back regardless, and he, a creature who had no regard for me, still respected my decision. Why can’t you?”

I’d tried avoidance, half-truths, outright lies, and fake personas. Nothing had worked. Might as well go with the truth.

“Because you’re right! Yes, sex with you was amazing. Yes, I know why you killed yourself, and yes, I remember your last words. That’s why I can’t bear to talk about them. Back then, I felt things for you I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in thousands of years. And I did respect your wishes. That’s why, when you insisted on facing Dagon with me, I didn’t stop you, and what happened? You fucking died.”

I found myself heaving in breaths as if the sobs I’d been holding back were now beating against the confines of my body.

“People die, Veritas.” Ian’s voice was soft, yet no less emphatic. “It doesn’t mean you were wrong to respect my wishes. It simply means no one is immortal.”

“I used to be,” I muttered.

“What?” he said sharply.

Damn whatever it was about Ian that always led me to spill my secrets! “Never mind. What’s important is that if you remember everything, you could end up with the vampire version of brain death. You hide your brilliance to manipulate your enemies because they all make the mistake of underestimating you, so are you going to risk all that knowledge for a few details that have no bearing on your life now?”

“Yes.”

I slammed my fists against my legs hard enough to crack the bones. Ian’s gaze darkened with concern. I seized on that like a drowning person grabbing at a lifeline.

“Fine, you don’t care about the danger to yourself? What about the danger to me?”

Now I had his full attention. “What danger?”

This was more than I wanted to reveal, but if it would stop him from finding out the rest, I’d let it rip.

“Know when I started having my split personality problem? After you died in front of me. I didn’t even know my other nature could break free, but she did. Now”—I gave a frustrated swipe at myself—“if I’m not careful, she’ll take permanent control. So, if you feel any gratitude for me bringing you back from the dead, don’t endanger me by staying, or by pressing me for details that endanger you, because in case you haven’t noticed, she bursts free whenever you’re in danger.”

He’d been listening with furrows dug into his features, but at the finale of what I thought was a good argument for him to get the hell out of there, his frown smoothed.

“Ah, I see the problem.” His tone was so light, it was almost cheerful. “You’re so strong, it’s been ages since you’ve been knocked on your arse. You’re also so brave, it must’ve been even longer than that since you’ve felt fear. I’ve had more recent experience with both, so let me remind you: when you’re knocked down, you get back up, and when you’re afraid, you press on regardless. As the saying goes, sometimes you have to kick the darkness until it bleeds daylight. Besides, fear can be a good thing. It reminds you not to take what you care about for granted.”