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"I do," I said, laughing. "I do. But tel me now--now that I've fol owed my gut. What sort of creature owns this ring?">Open your eyes. You have learned to pass through the fear intact. You've found your inner light, Delilah, the part of yourself that can slice through the darkness. All Death Maidens must find their light, for they work in the darkness, and the energy must balance. It is harder for you, because you still live, but you've done it. Be proud of yourself, and know that you will never lose that light again.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. The room was lit, and there was nothing to be seen except an empty chamber with a bright light shimmering through it, and I was sitting on a bench in the center. As I let out my breath, I looked down and gasped. The tattoos on my arms had changed. The black shadow was more vivid, and the hints of burnished copper and rust shone within the leaves. My marks were growing stronger, and I guessed with every lesson, the tattoos would darken. Proud that I'd passed, content that I'd faced down the chal enge and won, I glanced up to see a glimpse of a shadow in the corner.
"Delilah?" The voice echoed out of the shadows.
I know you. You have been with me before. "You're not Hi'ran, but you bear his energy. You've come to me several times now. Let me see who you are." My pulse began to race, and my heart leapt into my throat. I needed to find out just who he was. I needed to meet him. There was something so familiar, and yet . . . so alien.
And then he stepped out of the corner of the room. His lips were the first feature I noticed. They curled into a bow, into the most delicate of smiles. I could tel he was a moment away from laughing, and that made the serene smile seem al the more intriguing. I stepped back, my gaze locked with his.
Hi'ran?
No . . . not Hi'ran. And yet--the autumn was there, in his aura, in his energy. I could see it, feel it, practical y taste it, like candy corn and caramel apples and pot roast and pumpkin soup.
" I know you . . ." I whispered.
The man was tal , but not more than an inch tal er than myself. He was muscled, from what I could tel , with a V waist and broad shoulders. His heritage and warm toffee skin suggested that he might be half-Japanese, half-black, but that in itself was impossible to tel , because I had no idea if he was human or not. Definitely not an FBH, though, because he emanated energy like a lighthouse.
His eyes were liquid--like glossy obsidian or flowing ink. They glowed, shimmering with a dappling of stars. A craggy set of scars marked one cheek and his forehead, but rather than mar his looks, they added to them. His hair was the color of honey, amber, and wheat, al streaked together in a shimmering array of high and low lights, and he wore it back in a ponytail.
"You are so beautiful," I whispered, not caring if he heard me. He was the most gorgeous creature I'd ever laid eyes on, scars and al .
He laughed then, and slid off the brown leather coat that hit him mid-calf. Beneath the rich-toned coat he was dressed in a pair of brown cargo pants, a black turtleneck, and around his neck, he wore a pendant of smoky rutilated quartz. He had on motorcycle boots, but there was something . . . and then I noticed.
Frost trickled off the heels. Frost, like the frost of Hi'ran's boots. And when the man gazed up at me, I caught a whiff of bonfires, of smoke, of the early tang of autumn hoarfrost.
Automatical y, without a second thought, I stepped in front of him, Hi'ran's words ringing in my head. "Keep your eyes open, my sweet. Keep your mind open. Remember the curve of my lips, the scent of old leather and autumn carnivals, the frost that lingers on my breath. Listen for the song your Mark sings when I'm near."
"You can't . . . Could you be . . . ?" But I got no further, for the mark on my forehead started to sing, to play me one chord at a time, as the man reached out to take my hands. Awash in the current of flame that raced between us, I moved toward him, and he held out his arms.
"How . . . ? Who . . . ?"
"Shush . . . let it be what it is, Delilah. He's my Master, too. And we're both his chosen." He pul ed me into his arms, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
As I gazed into his eyes, I could see the ages long past, the eons gone by for this man--whoever and whatever he might be. I wanted to snuggle deep into his arms and rest, safe from the storms of my life.
He slid his arms around my waist and pul ed me close. As his lips sought mine, I was able to think clearly enough just to ask, "What's your name?"
His hands wandering along my thigh, his gaze fastened on my face, he whispered, "Shade. Just cal me Shade." And then his lips found mine, and everything in the world slid away except the power of his kiss.
CHAPTER 18
I have no idea how long I stood there, kissing him, pressed against his chest and listening to his heart beat as hard as my own, but after what seemed like forever, his hands began to move, and they slid under my shirt, touching my flesh, and I recognized his touch. He'd kissed me before in shadow form, and I wanted more. I knew, in my heart, with him I could have what I never could have with Hi'ran. With Shade, I could have what I couldn't find with Chase or with Zachary. Shade's energy enveloped me like the haunting strains of a distant waltz, like a storm battering at my senses.
Pul ing him down to the bench, I frantical y began sliding his turtleneck up to reveal his chest--toned and strong, but also covered with the scars of time.
He pul ed the shirt off and, eyes luminous, gazed into my face.
"Are you sure you want this?"
"Now, I want you now. I know you, I know you . . ." I could only repeat over and over the thoughts running through my head as I struggled to remove my clothing. He helped, sliding my shirt off as I struggled out of my jeans. I needed him, needed to quench my thirst, needed to be touched, to be loved, to be taken and thoroughly sated in a way I'd never felt before.
Shade said nothing more, but slipped off his boots and his pants. He was golden in his color, reminding me of warm sugar toffee, of a vanil a latte, and I slid my hands down his sides, running them shamelessly around to cup his butt. His muscles were oh, so firm, and he was ready, so ready for me. I wanted to taste him, looked at his cock with hunger, but my fangs reminded me of failed attempts before. My heritage had given me non-retractable fangs, just enough to hurt someone if I made a wrong move.
However, Shade seemed to pick up on my desire. "It's al right. If you want to, I would love it--you can't hurt me as easily as you can a human. Trust me,"
he whispered.
It was my turn to ask, "Are you sure?"
