if I do know about you?” she asked.
Rhys shook his head. “I wonder if it’s possible to get a straight answer out of you.”
“Unless you actually are London’s sheriff, I doubt it. Even if you were, it’s unlikely I would oblige.”
Rhys held up his hands in a gesture of submission. “Fine. I get it. You enjoy being mysterious.”
He stepped aside. “Would one more question be too much to ask?”
“Yes.” Donning her leather jacket, she got to her feet.
Up close, this trespasser wasn’t as small as he had originally thought. It was the slightness of her frame that made her seem fragile, though her attitude more than made up for it. He could easily have held her there with brute strength alone. Since he was two heads taller and twice as broad, she wouldn’t stand a chance against him. But this strange female was right. She owed him nothing. She had done nothing wrong. Yet.
“How do you know about me? Your answer might be more important than you realize, at least to me,” Rhys persisted. “Not many creatures are privy to knowledge of the Seven.”
She wasn’t going to get close to him, whether or not the doorway was wide open. Don’t you trust me, pale one? Maybe you don’t trust yourself. After all, not all immortals are friendly.
Hell...and again...other than his brethren and a few ancient vampires, he had never encountered another immortal, so what did he really know?
“Blood Knight, you said,” he prompted.
She said nothing.
“Perhaps you’ve met one of my brothers somewhere in this wide world?”
When her eyes met his briefly, the room seemed to fade out of focus. Those eyes were unusually intense and probing. Contained in the blue was the flicker of a far-off light.
A feeling of being connected to her snapped into place as their gazes held. Rhys was sure she felt it, too. Swaying slightly on her feet, the pale mystery was quick to break eye contact.
Rhys caught and held a breath, wanting...no, needing to know more about her. He said the next thing on his mind, shoving aside the answers he most needed in favor of the wave of emotion careening through him.
“Does it hurt?”
She looked up again.
“What you did tonight, here. Does it hurt?” he asked.
“It’s nothing.” Breathy voice. Lowered tone. Hidden emotion.
“And the other marks you bear?”
“Far worse.”
This beautiful female, parchment pale, slight of bone and freshly tattooed, had admitted to being privy to his status as an immortal. She had spoken of his brethren as if she were well-versed in their business, when he remained in the dark about hers.
The situation was unacceptable and there wasn’t really much he could do about it. She was intriguing, exciting. Unusual sensations stirred in his chest.
And there was something else...
Something about her that he could not put his finger on, no matter how hard he tried.
The scars that marred her flesh were evidence of battles she had fought. When? Where? They were evidence that she was no wallflower, no innocent maiden or pushover. In contrast to her fragile appearance, she was a warrior of some kind. A fighter.
Her gaze again rose slowly to meet his. This time she didn’t back off. She made no move to push past him. Rhys detected in her expression a glimmer of interest that she quickly masked.
Are you as intrigued by me as I am by you?
It was likely going to be a standoff in the doorway until she gave him more information about herself, especially now that she had let on about knowing his purpose in London.
“Why wings?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Why not?” she returned.
“The tattoos must have been important for you to have come here,” Rhys suggested. “I noted your reticence in the doorway of the shop.”
“We’re talking in circles, Knight. Don’t presume to know anything about me. People usually come to a place like this to get their bodies inked. That’s what I did.”
“Yes, people do that,” he agreed.
“Are you prejudiced against those of us who don’t fit into that category?”
“That would be absurd, wouldn’t it, since I don’t fit, either.”
She continued to stare at him.
“If I step back again, you’ll go? Just like that?” Rhys said.
“What’s to hold me here?”
“I was hoping my appearance in this doorway might be enough to instigate a real dialogue. You know, immortal to immortal.”
“Circles,” she reiterated. “When your monsters are calling.”
He wasn’t going to let up, didn’t want to lose her quite yet. Touching her was not an option. Laying a hand on her would be out of the question. But he wanted to do those things and was driven by a strange inner impulse to get closer to her.
“Those monsters will sense your presence the way I did. By now, the news will have spread,” Rhys explained.
“Let them come.”
“We can fight them together, if you like,” he suggested. “Teamwork.”
“I fight alone, and only when I have to.”
He couldn’t keep her there much longer. The stink of death permeated the air, seeping through the seals of the closed windows. Several bloodsuckers were out there, and not too far away.
“Get out of my way,” the pale beauty said.
“All right,” Rhys conceded without moving.
He couldn’t stop staring at this mesmerizing mix of unknowns. She looked like an angel with a purpose. An angel with one foot down in a place not quite as fluffy as the clouds. Her little trailing lights weren’t in evidence. The black-rimmed blue eyes were unsettling.
Maybe the tattooed wings make you feel more like an angel. Maybe you imagine you’ll use them to fly away.
“Let me help you,” Rhys said.
When white lashes lowered over her eyes, he thought again about reaching out to detain her. He wanted those eyes back on him. He wanted to understand her. Nevertheless, he let her brush past him because he was not her keeper, her friend, an actual ally or her lover. With regret, he watched the enigmatic, ethereal immortal female walk out of the room, heading for
