Page 17 of Illusory (The Marked Saga #8)

Dominic didn’t say another word to me after he picked me up into his arms and whisked me out of the kitchen, carrying me up the winding staircase and down the long corridor until we reached the privacy of my bedroom. It was exactly what I had been dreaming about for weeks, but I knew the second my feet left the ground that this wasn’t a romantic gesture. I could tell by the way the muscle in his jaw was working overtime and by the way he refused to meet my eyes the whole way there.

But I let him carry me anyway, needing the lie and the momentary safety of his arms. And the pressure taken off my mangled ankle.

Every part of my body was aware of him as he walked us into my bedroom and then set me down at the foot of my bed before circling back to the door. For a moment, my heart dropped into my stomach and fissured, thinking that he was going to leave me there without saying another word to me. And then he closed the bedroom door and locked it, his back still turned to me as he continued staring straight ahead at the door.

I couldn’t even begin to venture a guess as to what was cycling through his mind then.

Was he contemplating ripping the door off its hinges and running for the hills? Was he deciding whether he should stay here with me or not? Was he deciding if he even wanted to?

I hated not knowing how he felt. I hated that there was a space between us that I didn’t know how to fill anymore. Really, I hated all of this.

“Dominic?” The timbre of his name on my tongue sounded far more needy than I had intended it to, especially since technically, I was supposed to still be mad at him. I could barely remember why, though. “Are you going to come all the way in or are you just planning on staying by the door for the rest of the night?”

He appeared to be thinking about it. “I suppose that depends,” he finally answered, and then turned around to face me, his expression a perfect mask of indifference.

I really hated that mask, too.

I swallowed against the lump that had suddenly formed at the back of my throat. “On what?”

“On whether you plan on telling me the truth about what happened tonight.” His voice was calm and even, guarded from any emotion behind it. He quirked his brow at me inquisitively. “Or do you plan on holding fast to the lie you told everyone downstairs?”

The lump that had been in my throat thickened like coal and then dropped down into my stomach. “What lie? I didn’t—”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, stopping me dead in my tracks. “Last chance, angel.”

I stared back at him like a brainless mannequin with my lips still parted on the lie I hadn’t finished telling. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting when he carried me up to my bedroom, but I could say with absolute certainty that it definitely wasn’t this .

“I already know you didn’t vanquish those Hellhounds,” he stated matter-of-factly, his cunning eyes still boring holes into the depths of my soul. “What I don’t know is how you managed to make it out of there alive.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Do you even need to ask?” he retorted.

Apparently I did since the only reason I could think of was if he had first-hand information—if he were somehow involved in it. But he couldn’t have been involved in it.

…Could he?

I narrowed my eyes at him as a needle of suspicion pricked the back of my neck. “What exactly do you know about what happened? What aren’t you telling me?” I asked and then shoved off the bed. I’d meant to close the distance, but my legs were too shaky to take another step, though I wasn’t sure if it was because of my injuries or because I was afraid of hearing his answer. “I swear to god, Dominic, if you—”

“If I what ?” he cut in icily and then prowled toward me with the grace of a panther, each step exuding power and absolute control. “If I had something to do with it?” he asked tersely, his eyes as dark as flint.

I resisted the urge to cower away from him and the question which now seemed wildly inappropriate. “You just…you seem to know more than you’re saying.”

He huffed derisively, like a part of him expected the accusation. If he was hurt by it, though, he wasn’t showing it. “I always know more than I say,” he informed haughtily as he stopped in front of me and peered down at me under hooded eyes, making me feel as though he could disassemble my entire world with just a shift of those knowing eyes. “But you’ll be happy to know, despite your unfavorable opinion of me, that I know nothing of what went on at the witch’s house other than the fictional account you told everyone downstairs.”

Relief washed over me and suddenly, I felt horrible for even thinking it let alone saying it out loud. I should have known better than that—I should have known him better—but after what happened with his sire and the stark change in his demeanor toward me lately, I just couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. Until things went back to normal, nothing was out of the realm of possibilities or fully off the table.

“What I do know, however,” he said as he tilted forward and dropped his voice, “is Hellhounds.”

My breath stalled in my chest as I gazed up at him, petrified of what was going to come out of his mouth next. Something told me it wasn’t going to bode very well for my story.

He smiled but it wasn’t a nice thing. “I know that once a Hellhound is summoned for a kill, it doesn’t stop until payment is delivered in flesh and blood. That even on the very off chance that one is taken out, another one will quickly replace it before you’d have time to wipe your blade clean. What I know , angel, is that you, in no uncertain terms, are lying. Because being marked by a Hellhound is in and of itself certain death .”

Well, shiiit . I guess when he put it that way, my story definitely had a couple of holes in it.

His eyes tapered as he cocked his head to the side, studying me. “What I don’t know is why ?” he said softly as his hand came up to my face and caressed my cheek with the back of his knuckles.

My eyes slipped shut at his touch like it was the remedy to an ailment that only he could treat. Despite all my injuries and the aching pain still wracking my body, for that brief second, there wasn’t anything wrong with me. There wasn’t anything wrong in the entire world.

And then his hand was gone, and everything bad came hurdling back.

“What are you hiding, angel?”

I looked up and met his narrowed eyes as he searched my face for the answer. For the truth.

In the past, my default setting had always been to lie first and ask for forgiveness later. To hide the truth until I knew what to do with it. Basically, to deny until the cows came home. But I didn’t feel that way with Dominic. With Dominic, the lie never felt necessary, and the truth was seldom as scary as it seemed without him.

It was easy to take off my mask and lay my cards on the table for him. To show him all of the parts that made me who I was. Even when those parts were rotten and ugly and frightening. Because deep down, I knew it wouldn’t scare him off. He wouldn’t run away from it or from me. He never did.

“Fine. You’re right, okay? I lied. I didn’t vanquish any Hellhounds,” I admitted as I took a step back and sat down on the bed, already feeling a weight lift off my chest as I relinquished my burden. “I wasn’t even close.”

His jaw tensed as he folded his arms across his chest and waited.

“I think I managed to vanquish one whole Revenant— one ,” I repeated pointedly, because even then, I couldn’t believe how badly I’d performed, “before they all swarmed me at the same time. They weren’t feral. They were coordinated and working together. I could’ve probably taken them if it was one on one, maybe even a two on one, you know, if I wasn’t so tired from magic-training all day. But not all seven. I was basically done for the minute my back hit the floor and the first Revenant sank his fangs into me. Believe me, I tried to keep fighting—”

“I beg your pardon?” he cut in, momentarily halting my rant. “Say that again.”

“Which part?”

“The part about fangs sinking into you. Are you implying you were bitten by one of them?” he verified, sounding doubtful, because he knew as well as I did that that meant I should have been dead.

The first and only rule of slaying vampires was you never under any circumstances let them bite you. Ever.

“By both of them, actually.” I smiled wryly. “They double- teamed me.”

His hard, stoic expression cracked, giving way to something that looked a lot like rage, but it was quickly swallowed up by the confusion that soon followed. “How is that possible? How exactly did you make it out of there?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” I laughed, but there was really no humor behind it. It was more of a nervous tick. “I’m not even sure of it myself.”

“Explain. Now .”

“I was basically dead. The two of them were on me and I couldn’t even crack my eyes open let alone fight them off. But then something strange happened,” I went on, glancing down as I twiddled my fingers, struggling to put the disjointed pieces together in a way that made sense. “I mean, I think it happened. I was mostly out of it so I can’t even really be sure that it happened exactly the way I think it happened, but I can’t seem to come up with any other explanation that makes sense either, so—” I met his eyes and sighed. “So, I guess it happened.”

“And what is it that you guess happened?” he asked, his shoulders and jaw still tense.

“That…the Hellhounds…saved my life,” I answered quietly.

He watched me for what felt like an eternity, as though I had uttered the words in some foreign language and he was wracking his brain for the proper translation. “You think the Hellhounds saved your life?” he repeated slowly, as if needing to test the words out in his own mouth. As if the idea was so outlandish and implausible that he couldn’t even trust that his own perfect-vampire-hearing ears had heard me right the first time around.

I shrugged. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“How exactly does that make any sense at all?” he countered; the question almost mocking. “They were attacking you, were they not?”

I nodded.

“And then what? They simply changed their mind and decided to attack the Revenants instead?” he offered sarcastically.

“I mean, basically.” I knew he wasn’t being serious about it, but it still didn’t make it any less true. “Look, I know it sounds crazy. I didn’t even believe it myself at first. But what else am I supposed to think? One minute they’re all on me and then next, there’s vampire body parts scattered all around the room and four Hellhounds just sitting there, bowing their freaking heads to me.”

“Bowing?” he repeated incredulously, as though I’d just tipped the scale from implausible to completely deranged. “Angel, are you certain you didn’t…dream the event? You said two Revenants were feeding on you. I imagine you lost a significant amount of blood.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I did.” I couldn’t really deny that it was a possibility. I had lost a lot of blood. “But that doesn’t explain how I’m still alive right now and also not being hunted by the Hellhounds.”

He ran his hand along his jaw. “That’s a good point.”

“But you’re right—I didn’t actually see them do it.” I frowned. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“What did you see?”

“Mostly, I just heard a lot of growling and snarling and clothes ripping. By the time I was actually able to open my eyes, I saw all of three things: I saw my wings. I saw the dead vampires. And then I saw the Hellhounds doing their bow thing.” I paused to think about it. “Or was it the bowing before the body parts? No. I think it was the body parts first,” I rambled, mostly to myself.

“Did you just say your wings appeared?” he asked as a strange look passed through his eyes, but I was still too preoccupied with the timeline to pay it much attention.

“My wings? Yeah. They must have popped out while they were feeding on me.”

“You’re sure of it?”

“Yeah, I mean, I was staring right at them.”

“Interesting,” he said, running his lean fingers along his jaw again.

“I guess so. I mean, I wish I could figure out how to do it ‘on demand’, though. I really can’t have those things busting out whenever they feel like it.” No doubt at the most inopportune moment because that was just how my luck went. “Seeing as you apparently know everything, maybe you know a thing or two about learning to control these things?” I asked him and then frowned at the distant look in his eyes. He hadn’t heard a word of what I’d said. “Dominic, are you even listening to me?”

“Always.”

“Liar,” I said, though my heart had sped up just the same.

“Tell me, angel,” he said as he grabbed the chair from my desk and dragged it over to where I was seated. “Did the hounds start attacking the Revenants after your wings appeared or before?” he asked as he sat down across from me and leaned forward.

“I think it was after,” I answered gingerly, trying not to get distracted by the way the moonlight from the window made the edges of his face almost glow. “I felt something burning at my back while the Revs were feeding. I’m pretty sure it was the wings popping out.”

His lips coiled into a delicious smirk that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “I think that’s it.”

“Hm?” I tore my gaze away from his lips and met his eyes. “What’s it ? What are we even talking about?” I asked thoroughly confused since we’d apparently been having separate conversations this entire time.

“The wings, angel. I think they’re the reason why the Hellhounds protected you.”

I blinked at him. One time. Two times. Three. “How in the world did you reach that conclusion?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked and then went on before I could answer a resounding ‘no’. “You’re the Daughter of Hades. Lucifer’s daughter,” he said like it was the juiciest revelation we’d ever heard.

“And?” I blinked at him again. “I was the Daughter of Hades when I first walked into the house, too, and they had no problem attacking me then.”

“Because your wings were sheathed.”

“Why would they care about that?” I asked, still not following.

“Because up until that moment, you were simply a contract to be fulfilled. You could have been anyone—a no one. You’ve never aligned yourself with the Dark Legion or made any claim to that side of you. But the wings are undeniable proof that your blood is of Lucifer—that you’re his direct heir.” His flint eyes glimmered dangerously. “Now, I’m no expert on the inner workings of Hades, but I would assume that alone gives you some sort of dominion over them.”

His words stunned me silent. Dominion? Over Hellhounds?

Could it be true? Could that have been the reason why the Hellhounds saved me instead of finishing the job? Was it possible that I held some sort of power over them because I was Lucifer’s daughter? And what about other demons? Could I get them to lay their weapons down too just by flexing my wings a couple times?

I highly doubted it, but it still seemed like something I should look into.

“We should test it out,” I said, emphasizing the ‘we’ part when I met his eyes again. “Maybe it works on demons and vampires too.”

“Demons, perhaps, but not Revenants,” he stated with complete certainty and a hint of arrogance.

“How do you know?”

“Revenants are earthborn demons. We did not originate in Hades and therefore are not subject to the rules or societal hierarchies of that Realm.”

“Right,” I said, remembering what my uncle had told me about the origins of Revenants the day I’d stolen his special book. Basically, that they were created topside by a bunch of rogue witches trying to win a war. That was the short version anyway. “Well, we should at least test it out on a demon or two,” I said, undeterred. “Imagine how useful something like this could be in the future. Then again, I’d have to learn how to control the wings first,” I added with a frown that hurt my entire face.

“And you will,” he said as he carefully rolled up the sleeves of his black button up shirt, exposing his forearm. “All in due time.”

I arched my brow at him. “You say that like it’s a sure thing.”

“When it comes to you, angel, it most certainly always is,” he said and then bit down into his wrist, his dark eyes holding me captive.

His words felt profound to me, almost confessionary, but I couldn’t latch onto them, unsure if it was just my needy heart leading me astray again. Despite my need to take apart his words and make them into something I could use, my eyes gravitated to the two beads of red blood blossoming against his smooth skin.

“Heal,” he commanded softly as he held out his wrist to me.

There were a dozen questions floating through my mind then, like what any of this meant and where the two of us stood, and whether his offer to heal me meant something more than just a courteous necessity.

A part of me wanted to demand the answers from him, to know that he still cared about me and wanted me, but my mouth refused to take a stand, too afraid of hearing all the things I knew could break me if he uttered them. So, I clutched onto the lie and his wrist and then covered them both with my lips.

The familiar taste of him against my tongue slowed the racing thoughts until all I could think about was his medicinal blood moving through my body, healing more than just bruised muscles and torn flesh. It was mending the broken parts of me, filling the voids in my heart and quieting the noise in my head. It washed through me like a cresting wave hitting the shore and then retreating, taking with it all my fears and loneliness and heartache and pain, and dragging them all back out to sea where they could never again find me.

It was everything I needed and more. I needed to heal and forget and to keep the bad at bay for as long as possible, and so I clamped down harder, taking more and more from him as he balled his hand into a fist to appease me, his arm tensing against my mouth as he quietly watched me with those dark, knowing eyes of his. Eyes that could unravel me with just one look. That could break me apart and put me back together again just as easily.

My body instantly reacted—to him, to that look in his eyes—warming with want and need and other things I couldn’t quantify with words, and I moaned, the sound vibrating against his skin.

Dominic cursed under his breath and then sank further back against the chair, his legs spread open slightly as he tipped his head all the way back. I wasn’t sure if his response was because I was taking too much blood too quickly, or if it was because he was simply enjoying this as much as I was. I’d hoped it was the latter because despite knowing that I was undoubtedly weakening him and quickly approaching the point where I would need to stop, I also really really didn’t want to.

“Angel,” he warned, my name a strained and hoarse whisper that scratched against his throat.

I shook my head, not wanting this to end.

“You’ve had enough,” he said and tugged his arm back, pulling me and my unbreakable hold right along with it.

My ass landed firmly in his lap.

I’d done it to keep him from taking the warmth away from me, so that I could have just a tiny bit more, but all of that went up in smoke when I felt his other arm come up around my hips and then circle my waist, holding me against him possessively, and suddenly, I was hungry for something else entirely.

Letting him go, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand but made no effort to climb off his lap. “Did I take too much?” I asked, watching as his throat moved up and down with a hard swallow.

“No,” he said as his fiery gaze met mine and then stayed there. “You were perfect.”

Heat pooled low in my belly as my eyes dropped to his soft, plush lips, willing them to kiss me, to claim me. To bruise and mark my body with his mouth and hands and teeth, but he didn’t move a single muscle. If we hadn’t been sitting so close together, I might have convinced myself that he didn’t want me, that this was all in my head, but I could feel his desire pressed up against my thigh.

He was clearly just as turned on as I was so why the hell wasn’t he doing anything about it?

“Do you want to feed?” I asked quietly, my voice ringing out with need. Maybe I just needed to be the one to initiate things—to let him know that I wanted it, too. That I still needed him.

His jaw tensed as something dark and wicked flickered through his eyes, but it was shuttered just as soon as it had appeared. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” he said as he started to withdraw his arm from around my waist.

The hell it wasn’t. It was the best idea I’d had all day.

“Don’t.” I grabbed his hand and kept it in place. “I want you to.”

His nostrils flared as his breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling at a slightly faster pace. Without taking my eyes off him, I gathered all my hair and pulled it over to one side and then leaned toward him, all but offering myself up on a silver platter.

A low rumbling growl vibrated deep in his chest and my pulse exploded in my ears and my neck, my skin practically singing with the thought of his lips on me again. His gaze was already glued to my neck, and I knew he was watching my pulse thump under the thin, fragile surface of my skin. I knew that it was beating in perfect time with my heart, and I knew that it was his favorite fucking sound.

And yet, he still wasn’t moving.

“What am I doing wrong?” I asked, trying to keep the hurt from my voice.

His eyes climbed back up from my neck with what looked like an immense amount of effort. “You aren’t doing anything wrong,” he answered, his voice sounding almost sad.

“Then why won’t you touch me?”

“I’m touching you right now, aren’t I?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

His jaw muscle tensed again. “You’ve already lost more than enough blood for one night. I’m not going to feed on you and take what little you have left,” he said, as though the idea were preposterous. As though my blood wasn’t already regenerating as we spoke.

“But we could do…other things.”

His eyes darkened as he gripped my waist with both hands and lifted me off his lap. For a moment, I felt elated, thinking he was going to throw me down on the bed and have his way with me, but instead, he sat me down on the foot of the bed again and then circled back to my dresser.

Gripping the edge of the dark wood, he dropped his head and stared down at the floor, as though he needed a second to collect himself. After a few moments, he pulled open the top drawer and rifled through my clothes before pulling out a white T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts.

“I don’t think those are going to fit you,” I said teasingly, trying to keep the mood light and playful even though he still hadn’t turned back around to face me.

“They’re not for me,” he stated simply, like he hadn’t caught the joke at all. “They’re for you.”

“Right.” I eyed him curiously, wondering if I’d be able to relocate his sense of humor if I just stared hard enough. “But you know…I was thinking I’d much rather lose what I’m wearing—not add to it.”

The resounding silence stretched so far across the room that I felt as though I’d been slapped by it.

“It’s been a long day. You ought to rest,” he said and glanced at the bathroom door, his movements almost as wooden as his words were.

“But I’m not tired yet.”

“I’ll run you a shower. You’ll feel better once you’re all cleaned up,” he said and started toward the ensuite bathroom. “I’ll see if I can find you something to eat why you’re doing that.”

“Or you could join me in the shower instead,” I suggested, feeling the brazenness of my words color my cheeks.

He faltered mid-step and then slowly rolled a kink out of his neck. “Is there something specific you would like?”

I blinked, confused. “You mean, like sexually?”

He hissed out a curse under his breath. “I mean to eat ,” he answered tersely and then looked over at me with hardened eyes. Whatever heat had been there before had clearly vanished.

“Right.” My shoulders sagged as I stared down at my hands, feeling completely embarrassed. “Anything is fine.”

He nodded and then sauntered off into the bathroom to start the shower.

Standing up on shaky legs, I waited at the foot of my bed for him to reemerge from the bathroom hoping to avoid being crammed into the small space together and embarrassing myself any further. He’d made it perfectly clear where we stood now and just how little he wanted me.

“It’s all yours,” he said curtly without meeting my eyes again as he crossed the length of my bedroom and then disappeared through the door.