Chapter 20

I squeaked as Remy vanished through a solid brick wall, but he kept hold of my hand and tugged me forward. With amazement, I realized an extremely sophisticated illusion hid the opening and we must have entered the Veiled Vaults. Once inside, however, the darkness was oppressive, and I stared around blindly. We were in a black void that seemed ready to suck out my soul, and my heart began to race. Remy tried to let go of my hand, but I clung tight like a child clutching a beloved stuffed animal.

Remy shook his hand and hissed, "Let go."

"No." There was no way in all the hells I was being left alone in this stygian gloom.

"I need to light a candle, and I can't do that with your death grip on my hand."

"Oh. You won't leave?"

"I promise I won't leave you." I could hear the smile in his voice and felt a little foolish.

After a moment, a candle sputtered to life right next to me, casting a welcome pool of light around us. I took several deep breaths and then examined the tunnel where we stood. Just inside the entrance, a basket full of candles hung from the rough-hewn wall. The ceiling was high enough for Remy to walk easily, but I imagined Ralph would have had to duck his head. The floor below was damp earth that would muffle any footsteps.

Remy began walking deeper into the tunnel, and I jumped forward to grab his free hand once again. The candlelight glinted off his white teeth when he flashed a quick grin.

"I said I wouldn't leave you."

"What if the candle goes out and we get separated?"

"I'd find you."

"In this dark?" I couldn't stop my voice from going up an octave.

This time, he laughed outright. "Yes, in this dark. Shifter, remember? I know exactly where you are."

I wasn't entirely convinced but uncurled my fingers from around his hand. To my surprise, Remy didn't let go, instead giving my hand a slight squeeze as he strode through the maze of tunnels. The air grew cooler and damper as we went, and after a few more turns, I was thoroughly lost. I made a mental note not to antagonize Remy. If he abandoned me, I would be doomed.

Occasionally, we passed dimly lit alcoves where figures shrouded in cloaks huddled, some sleeping, some glancing around nervously.

"How did these people know how to get here?"

"A guild member has to bring them the first time. I'll introduce you to Fearghal later. He's the knobblen that takes care of this place."

"The what?"

"Knobblen. You'll see when you meet him."

I'd encountered many magical races when I traveled with the circus, but I'd never even heard of a knobblen.

Remy finally stopped in front of a more private alcove with a screen covering the entrance. Inside there was a small cot, a wobbly table, and a wooden chair. A pitcher of water and a half-burned candle sat on the table. Remy lit the table candle with the one he held and looked around the tiny space.

"We can rest here for a few hours. By then, the alarm in City Center should have died down."

I picked up the table candle and held it near his side. His vest was saturated with blood, and it was dripping on the floor. "Your injury is worse. You have to get that looked at."

"I'll be fine."

"No, you won't. Besides, if you bleed out here and die, I can't find my way out."

He laughed, but it turned into a wince. Unbuttoning his vest, he shrugged it off and dropped it onto the chair. He started removing his shirt, but sucked in a sharp breath as it pulled on the wound. With a grunt, he peeled it off and deposited it next to the vest.

I moved the candle closer and peered at a long, ragged gash around his ribs. "What happened?" I asked.

"I jumped through a window to escape the gargoyle and got sliced on the broken glass."

"There could still be fragments in there. It's too dark in here to tell." I took his vest and poured water on the cleanest side—not that any of it was particularly clean. "Hold still."

He gripped the back of the chair and closed his eyes, as I carefully wiped away as much of the blood as I could. I didn't dare try to clean the cut itself for fear of driving any shards deeper in. A quick assessment of the alcove confirmed that there was nothing I could use as a bandage, and since Remy still had his eyes closed, I stepped away from the small pool of candlelight. Facing the wall, I pulled off my tunic and then my exercise top. Remy groaned softly, and I quickly pulled my tunic back on and turned to face him.

His eyes were no longer closed but fixed on me with a molten intensity. I licked my lips and tried not to stare at the way the flickering light highlighted the chiseled planes of his chest. My heart began thudding as I took a step closer to him. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, but it did nothing to blunt my attraction to Remy. I could see the desire in his eyes, and it ignited something deep within me.

With great effort, I fought down my burgeoning need and held up my top. "We can use this as a bandage."

He shook his head and cleared his throat. "You know I can see clearly into these shadows, right?"

The heat that had been pooling in my core moments before abruptly switched direction and rushed to my cheeks. "Stopping you from bleeding all over the floor seemed more important than my modesty."

I marched over to him and wrapped my top around his ribs. There was no way to secure it, so I reached for his belt buckle and began to undo it.

"If you wanted to get into my pants, you should have said so." He leered at me and licked his lips.

"Don't flatter yourself. I can't think of another way to hold this in place."

He sighed loudly but cinched the belt around his torso and the makeshift bandage. I helped him get his shirt buttoned over the belt and handed him his wet, bloody vest to put on top. The arrangement was far from ideal, but if he didn't move too much, it would hold for now.

"Get some sleep," Remy said, pointing to the cot. "We can leave in the morning."

"I think you need the bed more than I do." I pulled the chair over to it. "I can doze here."

He opened his mouth to say something, but I folded my arms over my chest and glared. With a sigh, he crawled onto the small cot and lay on his side. I knew shifters healed a lot faster than humans, but even their wounds wouldn't close with glass embedded in them. He had to be in a lot of pain every time he moved.

I didn't know how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes, I had grown stiff in the chair. Remy was still sleeping, and I spent a few minutes studying him. Even when brooding, he was always alert and intense, and this was the first time I had seen him completely relaxed. That amazing sable-tipped hair fell about his face and thick lashes rested on his cheeks. His nose was a trifle long and pointed in profile, but it suited him perfectly.

I regretted that the light was too dim for me to tell if his beard stubble matched his hair, but I cautiously touched his cheek. His scruff was softer than I'd expected, and I smiled to myself as the desire to rub my cheek against his grew strong. His blue eyes popped open, and his hand reached up, twining his long, elegant fingers through mine. Our gazes locked and my pulse kicked up.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly raised my hand to his lips and gently placed a kiss on my knuckles. My skin tingled from the contact, and I imagined those soft lips all over my body. Then he pushed himself up to sit and swung his legs down over the edge of the cot. He lifted his other hand to trap mine between his and shuddered out a long breath.

"Ziola, I want you very badly. More than I've ever wanted any woman. But—workplace conflict aside—I am unquestionably the wrong man for you. My entanglements are never more than physical." He winced. "At least on my side. My partners understand this, although some, like Shirley, think I'll change my mind." He glanced away, but quickly looked back. "I won't."

He raised my hand back to his mouth and kissed each finger in turn. With another shuddering breath, he said, "Find another man. One who won't use and then discard you." He dropped my hand. "You deserve much better than me." Holding the makeshift bandage in place, he rose from the cot and stepped away.

I started to protest. "But—"

"I'm incapable of deeper relationships, Ziola. It's just the way I am."

Numbness crept through me as I digested his words, and I dropped my gaze. I needed to stay focused on my career, so his sentiments should have been welcome. Instead, they were painful. Unfortunately, they also weren't unexpected. He was just one more person who didn't like me enough to want me in his life. I blinked back the sudden prickling behind my eyes and also stood.

Clearing the thickness from my throat, I made light of the situation. "Actually, I was just wondering if your beard has the same mix of colors as your hair."

He barked a laugh, and the somber mood receded. "If I grew out my beard, I dare say it would."

"So, you don't dye your hair like that?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Do you really think I'm that vain?"

I grinned, cocked my hip, and planted a fist on it. "Your ego is big enough, so who knows?"